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THE
MERCHANT SEAMAN
IN WAR
BY
L. COPE CORNFORD
WITH A FOREWORD BY
ADMIEAL SIR JOHN R. JELLICOE,
G.C.B., O.M., G.C.V.O.
NEW YORK
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1918,
BY GEOEGE H. DORAN COMPANY
JUN -6 1918
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
©CI.A497650 \y
TO
THE MEMORY OF
BRAVE MEN
In the following narrative, m order to
conform to the eocigencies of war, it has
been necessary to omit the names of per-
sons and to give no more than a general in-
dication of localities. These discretions
will not, it is hoped, detract from the es-
sential value of the record.
BUT THE COMMON SORT COULD I NOT
NUMBER NOR NAME, NAY, NOT IF TEN
TONGUES WERE MINE AND TEN MOUTHS,
AND A VOICE UNWEARIED, AND MY HEART
OF BRONZE WITHIN ME . . ." — Iliad 2.
FOREWORD
We are passing through a crisis in the His-
tory of onr Nation during which every individ-
ual is called upon to take some part. On every
side there are evidences of devotion to duty, and
much that is heroic and splendid is brought into
prominence every day. In a conflict of so vast
a scale, however, countless acts of gallantry
must inevitably pass unrecorded and unknown ;
and unless I misjudge my fellow-countrymen, I
believe their authors would not have it other-
wise. Yet the part in this war which has been
played by the officers and men of the British
Mercantile Marine is such that some record is
imperative. They have founded a new and a
glorious tradition in the teeth of new and un-
dreamed-of peril, and have borne the full brunt
of the enemy's illegal submarine warfare. It
is not only in their honour that I feel this book
should go before the public, but also as a lesson
to succeeding generations who will follow their
paths in freedom on the seas.
J. R. Jellicoe.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I The Mine 17
II The Submarine 25
III "War is War" 30
IV The Last Chance 39
V Small Game 47
VI "Where is 'Harpalion'?" .... 52
VII Netsuke 58
VIII The Sole Survivor 61
IX According to Instructions .... 65
X The "Lusitania" 70
XI The Castaways 86
XII Down in Five Minutes 100
XIII The Raider 108
XIV A Gallant Warning 130
XV The Fight of the "Goldmouth" . . 134
XVI The Worth of a Life 138
XVII The Engineers of the" Yser" ... 143
XVIII Slipping Between .146
XIX Heavy Weather 152
XX A Sitting Shot 159
XXI Shipmates with a Pirate . . . . 164
XXII "A Cheerful Note" 172
XXIII Vignette 176
XXIV "Leave Her" 178
XXV Fuel of Fire 180
XXVI The Pilot's Story 188
XXVII Three Prisoners 195
XXVIII Hide-and-Seek in the Bay .... 201
vii
viii CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
XXIX "But Nine of her Crew Alive" . . 210
XXX Dead Men's Luck 216
XXXI Firing on the Boats 222
XXXII The Slavers 225
XXXIII A Desperate Pass 229
XXXIV Sticking to It 286
XXXV A Fishing Trip 239
XXXVI Twice Running ...... 242
XXXVII The Fight of the "Aracataca" . . 244
XXXVIII The Blackguard 249
XXXIX Settling the Score 253
XL The Raft 257
XLI The Flying Death 260
XLII Brethren of the Shark .... 262
XLIII The Case of the "Belgian Prince" . 265
XLIV Expectation and Event .... 270
XLV Quick Eye and Ready Hand . . 274
XLVI Panic 275
XLVII Nine Steadfast Men 278
XLVIII Carnage 282
XLIX Unavoidable 285
L Quite 0. K 288
LI The Chase by Night 291
LII The Second Chance 294
LIII Hard Pressed ....... 297
LIV Quite Interesting 300
LV Short and Sharp 302
LVI Mixing It 304
LVII Short and Sweet 306
LVIII The Escape of the "Nitronian" . . 308
LIX The Danger Zone 310
LX Receiving Visitors 312
LXI The Master of the "Nelson" . . 315
Envoy 318
PEEFATOEY NOTE
The Way of the Sea
The complete history of the doings and the endurance
of the officers and men of the Mercantile Marine during
the war cannot yet be written; but by the courtesy of
the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty the present
writer has been enabled to select a series of examples
from the records of the first three years of war, which
may serve to illustrate the whole matter. And the
theme of the book is denned in the Foreword with which
Admiral Sir John Jellicoe, in the midst of his many and
great labours, has been so good as to endow the enter-
prise.
That enterprise is difficult enough; for the chronicler
may do his best, and still he must rely upon the help
of the reader. For whereas the artist in fiction can
cause the persons of his story to express themselves in
act and word, and can himself illumine the processes
of their mind, according to the effect he desires to
achieve, the narrator of history, dealing with contempo-
rary persons and events, owns no such pleasant freedom.
The chronicler can but evoke persons many of whom
he has never seen, and reconstitute events which he
has not witnessed, from out the official records, abstract
like a proposition in Euclid, or from the accounts of
the seamen themselves, who, with some exceptions,
frame their style upon the model of the ship's log. And
no wonder; for men who have endured a deadly ordeal
take small pleasure in reviving the experience. More-
over, the circumstances in which the narrator tells his
story are far from encouraging. Very often he has lost
his ship, not in itself a gratifying event; very often, too,
x PREFATORY NOTE
he comes on shore after having oscillated, wet and
starving, between life and death in an open boat, for
days and nights. Sometimes he has been wounded, or
he has witnessed the violent death of shipmates.
Thus the master, or the officer, or the seaman fetches
up in the office of the appointed official, who, if sym-
pathetic, is still an official, whose sole business it is to
reduce a strange and a moving episode to an official
form; upon which it is grimly transmuted into sworn
evidence of a legal character.
Nevertheless, the official records own the invaluable
quality of being true, or as near to truth as may be
attained by man's fallible recording instrument of
memory; and truth is of so strange a potency that it
can even shine through a printed form of the Board of
Trade.
But again, the truth fetters the historian; for he is
bound by the reality of the chain of events; a chain
which he dare not break in pursuit of the broader truth
expounded by the artist in fiction. Visible nature
knows nothing of the conventions of art, which, having
impressed them upon the mind of man, nature leaves
him to apply at his discretion. So that the historian
must take episodes as they occur. It is not for him to
clew up ragged ends.
And yet the historian, being in his humble way an
artist too (inasmuch as he is making something out of
something else), must still select from the mass of his
material that which serves his purpose, to the exclusion
of other matters; for, in default of such discrimination,
his picture would convey no more than a series of con-
fused impressions. And in this book it has been the
design of the chronicler to present the character and
the virtues of the British seaman, rather than the
wickedness of his enemies or the horror of his sufferings.
For a tale of wrong is of no worth in itself. If in
adversity men and women fail of courage and constancy
and cheer, then we should lay our hands upon our mouths
and keep silence, for there is no more profit in speech.
To tell, with every device of art, of a state of hopeless
resignation or of a hopeless discontent, like the Russian
PREFATORY NOTE xi
novelists, is merely to accuse the Creator; and (as we
in England hold) falsely.
There must be an inestimable, essential value in
courage and constancy and cheer, for as matters are
arranged in this world, no pain nor atrocity is regarded
as excessive, so it educes these virtues. Indeed we
know their worth by that faculty of inward recognition
by means of which alone we may properly be said to
know anything.
It is for this reason that we honour the officers and
men of the Mercantile Marine, with a sentiment slightly
differing in kind, though not in degree, from the senti-
ment which we feel for the naval seaman and the
professional soldier. For the business of these men is
war; and it is to be supposed they made their account
with contingencies when they entered the King's service.
And although it is not true, what they tell you, that
they are paid to face mutilation and death, inasmuch
as you can no more pay a man for these things than
you can buy a ticket for Heaven, not to mention that
the actual sum of money in question is, broadly speaking,
a standing disgrace to the nation, it is still the fact that
the naval seaman and the soldier fall into another
category from the civilian who confronts the enemy.
The merchant seaman is a peaceful trader. During
many generations before the war, the whole duty of
defending the Mercantile Marine fell upon the Royal
Navy. It was not always so. In the old wars, the
merchant seaman and the Navy man were very often
the same, serving indiscriminately in either Service.
Merchant ships mounted guns, and fought them
hardily. It was a part of the instructions given to a
master of the Mercantile Marine that he must defend
his ship against the King's enemies. Probably the last
merchant masters who engaged the enemy were the
masters of the ships of the Honourable East India
Company.
The Navy was evolved from the Mercantile Marine.
In the beginning, the seamen of the merchant service
worked a ship of war, which carried soldiers to do the
fighting, and the fighting was an affair of bows and
xii PREFATORY NOTE
arrows, close quarters and sharp steel, differing only
from land warfare in that the men-at-arms were afloat.
But in the meantime, the seamen themselves, perpetually
engaged in cross-Channel raids and always in distant
voyages warring against pirates, learned to fight their
ships as well as to sail them, and so acquired the art of
tactical manoeuvring under sail, in which the ship
herself becomes one with the weapons of war, like a
hand wielding a sword.
Thus by degrees the soldier became eliminated from
shipboard, and (to abridge the generations) the seaman
became the fighting man. Traces of the old system
survived to within living memory in the Royal Navy,
in whose ships a master, who was not a fighting man,
was responsible for the sailing of the ship. His descen-
dant is the navigating officer, but the navigating officer
of to-day is a fighting man who specialises in naviga-
tion. And the Royal Marines, who are both seamen
and soldiers, and who represent military, as distinguished
from naval, discipline on board, combine the two
systems.
And while the evolution of the fighting seaman was
proceeding in the King's ships, the merchant seaman in
the trading ships was losing his military attainments
and becoming the civilian proper, as we knew him
before the war.
During the nineteenth century, when England became
the first industrial nation, and acquired half the carrying
trade of the world, the merchant seaman, in common
with his kinsfolk ashore, fell into that commercial
slavery which was (and is) the capital sin of England.
The men who sailed into every quarter of the globe,
part-adventurers in ship and cargo, now declined into a
state of hopeless dependence, ill-paid, ill-fed, ill-equipped,
sent to sea in ill-found ships, sweated by the shipowners
when trade was brisk, and left to rot on the beach when
the insane commercial competition brought the inevitable
penalty of depression.
Save when the indignant Plimsoll cursed the opulent
gentlemen of a lethargic House of Commons into a
spasmodic effort, the country did nothing for the men
PREFATORY NOTE xiii
who brought its daily food and its monstrous riches.
The country knew nothing of the merchant seaman.
People owned a vague idea that the sailor (as they called
him) was a jovial, reckless dog, fond of his lass and his
glass, usually drunk when on shore, and in that glorious
condition wasting his money in riotous living, and gene-
rally getting knocked on the head and robbed in the
process. But it was nobody's business but his own.
Like some millions of his fellow-creatures on shore, he
was the chattel of limited liability companies, whose
shareholders took no sort of interest in anything what-
soever except dividends.
Consider now this silent and strange figure of the
merchant seaman, pervading the centuries unnoticed.
Shrewd of eye, hard-featured, tough as oak, rough-
tongue d, humorous, kindly, rising up and going to rest
with danger as his constant copesmate, as careless of
life as indifferent to death, he holds his existence solely
by virtue of his precarious mastery of the implacable
sea. That perpetual conflict sets him in a class apart
from landward folk, of whom he conceives a certain
contempt. They dwell at home at ease; they have
every night in; and they ask him if he has ever beheld
that glorious work of God, a sunrise at sea. They will
also cheat him of his wages, sell him drugged liquor,
steal the very clothes from off his body, and scorn him
at the end of it.
The seaman knows he is never safe except at sea,
where the rules of the brotherhood of the sea encompass
him. Of that simple and generous code the people on
shore are wholly ignorant. That all seamen are bound
to help one another in distress is the first and greatest
rule, and its other name is charity. With hazard of
life and gear, with money or with goods, with food and
drink, it is all one. When a man dies on shore, his
neighbours gather together to relish the pageant of the
funeral. When a man is killed at sea, his mates remark
that poor old Bill is gone, and they hold an auction of
his possessions at the foot of the foremast, and each
man bids as high as he can, and then they send all the
money to the widow.
xiv PREFATORY NOTE
If you met an officer of the Mercantile Marine in the
street clad in his shore-going clothes, you would hardly
guess that this grave gentleman with the quiet voice and
the look, at once brooding and vigilant, as of one beset
with multitudinous cares, and meeting them carefully,
is a seaman — so widely does popular conception differ
from reality. But in truth, from the master of a tug
to the master of a liner, from the officer of an ocean-
going steamship to the mate of a collier, runs a scale of
infinite gradations. What is common to all is the
indefinable spirit of their calling, the spirit which you
shall see in action in the pages of this book.
One of its manifestations is the economy of the ship.
A ship may be a noble piece of design, or it may be as
destitute of imagination as a warehouse. In other words,
the ship may be built by men, or it may be constructed
by the semblances of men who have sold their immortal
part for money. But, beautiful or ugly, the ship is
nothing but a vehicle. It is a far finer vehicle than a
railway locomotive, partly by reason of its immemorial
and romantic history, and partly by reason of the sen-
tience which mysteriously belongs to a ship, and which
makes her, to the seaman, a person; but a vehicle she
remains.
But inasmuch as she carries a community set apart
and exiled from its fellows, with a common task to
achieve, the community is organised into a society in
which every man has his allotted business, and in which
all are subject to the supreme command of the master.
The reason why the society is thus organised is simple;
it is because the institution of discipline is the essential
condition of the accomplishment of a common enter-
prise. Far back along the centuries, when men believed
that their chief enterprise was, not to make money
but, to get to Heaven, the economy of the ship was the
economy of Holy Church. The master was called the
Rector; and riding high on the rail of the poop was a
consecrated shrine, to which every man did obeisance
when he stepped on deck. The custom survives in the
Royal Navy, in which the Service man still salutes the
quarterdeck when he comes on board. (The civilian,
PREFATORY NOTE xv
unconscious of high matters and with no desire to offend,
will drop matches on the quarterdeck and wear his hat
between decks.)
The principle of the economy of a ship, whether she
be a King's ship or a trader, is the principle of service,
which is the principle of chivalry. It is written that a
man cannot serve God and mammon. But he must
serve one or the other. He was bound to service when
he was born; the only liberty he owns is the liberty
to choose his master; and, by a divine paradox, the one
choice will give him liberty and the other slavery.
And the man who serves on board ship perforce serves
another than himself, and so far he has found freedom.
The discipline in a merchant ship is in part a matter
of law, and in greater part an affair of tradition and of
the personality of the master. The instinct of service
is a part of the nature of the English. It is usually
described as the love of freedom, which, in fact, it is.
Thus the instinct towards servitude, or submission to
tyranny, is the exact opposite to the instinct of service.
Oppress the Englishman, and sooner or later he will
rebel. Ask him to serve you, deal with him honestly,
and he will be staunch through thick and thin.
And at this point arises the question of material
recompense. During the war, the pay of the merchant
seaman (not of the officers) has been doubled. That
the additional wage made an inducement to encounter
the hazards of war is, of course, the fact. But when
the fighting begins, or the hidden blow is struck, it is
not money that holds the seaman to his duty. Moreover,
before the war, the seaman's pay was both inadequate
and inequitable, nor was there any provision for securing
him stability of employment, nor did he earn a pension.
When war was declared, it was the duty of the mer-
chant seaman to carry supplies and munitions across
the seas. Upon his faithful discharge of that duty all
depended.
At first, the dangers menacing the Mercantile Marine
were mines and hostile cruisers. It does not seem to
have occurred to the authorities that the er.i'jaj would
attack unarmed merchant vessels with submarines.
xvi PREFATORY NOTE
And in due time the submarine took the world by sur-
prise. Thenceforth the merchant seaman must sail at
the hazard of a deadly peril which might come unawares,
and against which, in any case, he was at first utterly
defenceless. He must navigate unlighted channels amid
unlighted ships. He must steer new courses and learn
the art of war. He never failed nor flinched. And you
shall mark in these chronicles the merchant seaman,
beginning unarmed and helpless, stumbling over mines,
attacked by raiding cruisers, torpedoed or shot to pieces
by submarines, sent adrift to go mad or drown in open
boats, still sturdily going undaunted about his business,
and gradually becoming a wary and valorous fighting
man. He is the same merchant seaman who, but three
years since, was the drudge of commerce, and who now
in his own right is entered on the chivalry of the sea.
The Mine
The episode to be related occurred during
the first weeks of the war, ere the mercantile
marine understood what was happening, or
perceived what might happen. To-day a
mercantile marine master, attired in the uni-
form of his Majesty's Service, fetching up in
port, will casually remark to a brother mariner,
also disguised in uniform, that a day or two
since he saw a vessel torpedoed a couple of
cables' length ahead of him. "Shut up like a
box, she did, and sank at once. And if the
submarine hadn't been so greedy she could have
had me instead." Whxch brief tale of the sea
his friend receives in a genial silence, presently
broken by a request not to forget to let him have
that six fathoms of eight-inch hawser, what-
ever he does. To-day the merchant skipper,
navigating at night in home waters, finds his
way, as he says, by "putting his hand out to
feel." But what the seaman calls the Eeligion
of the Sea stands now as before the war. It
consists in the simple faith that what will be,
will be; with the corollary that land and sea
17
18 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
are equally dangerous and equally safe. A new
illustration of an old story occurred the other
day when a seaman, having been torpedoed out
of his ship, came to a sailors ' home, went out for
a stroll, was knocked down by an omnibus, and
indignantly called his Maker to witness that he
had always said the sea was safer than the land.
So, upon a day in the first weeks of the war,
the steamship Runo was placidly gliding north-
wards upon a gently heaving sea. Early that
morning the Runo had left port. The master
was on the bridge, and there he remained, while
the officers stood their watches and relieved one
another according to routine. The master had
been busy until late into the preceding night,
embarking the passengers; and about two
o'clock in the afternoon, having been on the
bridge for eight or nine hours, he went to the
chart-room on the bridge deck and lay down on
the sofa to get a spell of sleep.
At four o'clock the officer on watch was re-
lieved by the chief officer. As he stood on the
bridge he saw away on his left hand the haze
shrouding the highlands of the coast, and two
or three trawlers, printed dark upon the water
in the clear light of the autumn afternoon,
and beyond, the gently heaving sea stretching
vacant to the horizon. The passengers were
huddled in silent groups along the promenade
deck, on either side of the house, or lay sick and
silent below. It occurred to the second officer,
who had finished his watch, to go down to the
forehold to look at his bicycle. Two able
seamen, seated on a skylight, were working the
THE MINE 19
pump fixed on the after end of the engine-room
casing, pumping water into the galley. In the
chart-room, within call of the bridge, and
so instantly available, the captain lay asleep.
There was no sound save the steady beat of
the engines.
As a measure of precaution, additional boats
had been provided, and there was enough boat
accommodation for all on board. Four boats,
two on either side, were swung outboard from
the davits, and the rest of the boats were on
chocks on deck. The value of boats in saving
life depends first of all upon the ability of
their crews in getting them away from the ship.
If the crews are practised, and the passengers
are under control, in smooth weather the opera-
tion should be successfully accomplished.
The chief officer on watch on the bridge had
noted that the clock told half -past four, when
he was shot into the air, fell heavily to the deck,
where he lay unconscious, a grating on the top
of him. The man at the wheel saw a huge
column of water rise alongside, as he was flung
down and sandwiched between two gratings. At
the same moment the two compasses and every
other fitting on the bridge were broken to pieces.
The second officer, down in the forehold attend-
ing to his bicycle, was conscious of a tremendous
explosion, which dashed him upwards against
the ceiling, whence he dropped stunned. The
able seamen sitting on the skylight, who were
working the pump, were flung upon the deck.
Picking themselves up, they climbed instantly
upon the top of the engine-room casing, port
20 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
side, where was the boat to which they were al-
lotted. It was already filled with frightened
passengers. The seamen helped to launch the
boat, then went to help the passengers embark
in the boat on the starboard side. The third
engineer, who had come on deck, was pitched
into the water, where he remained until he was
rescued by one of the boats.
In the meantime the captain in the chart-
house was hurled up from the sofa, struck the
ceiling, and rebounded down upon the table
amid a cascade of splintered glass, and lay there
bleeding and unconscious. But in three or four
minutes he came to himself, and, battered as he
was, with the seaman's unfailing instinct to get
on deck in a crisis, he staggered to the bridge.
Blood was running down his face and dripped
from a gash in his arm. By this time the chief
officer and the steersman were on their feet
again; the ship was still forging on, but at the
same time settling ominously down by the
head; and in the water were boats and swim-
mers, from whom the ship was receding. The
master, seeing the people in the water, put the
helm over hard a-starboard to turn the ship in
their direction. He issued orders to stop the
engines, to hoist the distress signal, and blew
the siren to call the trawlers near by. He sent
the chief officer to muster the passengers and
to launch the remaining boats.
About ten minutes had elapsed since the ex-
plosion, and in those minutes a great deal had
happened. Below in the engine-room the en-
gine-room staff, at the impact of the explosion,
THE MINE 21
felt a sudden heel to port, and a sensation as
if the ship had ran against a stone wall. The
second engineer said that "it was just like going
into a stone wall. It was a sudden thud and a
stop." For a few minutes no order came from
the bridge, so that the chief engineer did not
touch the engines, which continued working at
full speed. Thus, while the captain, the chief
officer and the man at the wheel, and the second
officer in the forehold were all lying prostrate,
the engine-room staff remained below, in sus-
pense, awaiting orders. The brief disability of
the ship's officers had no other effect upon the
engine-room; but it disastrously affected the
passengers. The whole mass of them, filled
with panic terror, scrambled for the boats. By
the time the master and the chief officer had
regained their senses it was too late.
The boat resting on chocks on the engine-
room casing, port side, to which the two seamen
had sprung instantly after the explosion, was
indeed orderly rilled with the stewardess and
women passengers, twenty-six in all, and the
chief officer having by that time come to her, she
was swung out, lowered and cast off in a sea-
manlike manner. But in the meantime the alley-
ways were choked with struggling passengers,
through whom the seamen could not force their
way to the boats. Such was the general posi-
tion. The details are obscure, but it seems evi-
dent that the foremost boat on the starboard
side, which had been filled with water by the
explosion, was somehow emptied, hoisted from
its chocks and lowered into the water by the
22 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
stewards and the passengers. Why she went
away with no more than two passengers in her,
and why neither passengers nor boat were ever
seen again, are not known.
The stewards and passengers between them
lowered fonr more boats. Of one they cnt the
falls, so that the boat dropped, hanging along-
side by the painter, and filled with water. The
people were somehow hauled on board again.
Of another they cnt the foremost falls, bnt
nevertheless the boat was safely got away, with
one able seaman and thirty to thirty-five pas-
sengers on board, none of whom was ever seen
again. Another boat, carrying twenty or thirty
people, capsized. Some of these passengers
kept themselves afloat, and these were the peo-
ple whom the master saw when he came on
the bridge and pnt the helm over in order to
save them. Some were picked up. The last of
the four boats to be lowered by the confused
mob of stewards and passengers went away full
of people, who were never seen again.
By this time the engines had been stopped,
and the ship was gradually settling down, the
main hold being half full of water. The master
perceiving that, in answer to his signal, two
steam trawlers were coming up, ordered that no
more boats were to be lowered, and shouted
through a megaphone to the trawlers to pick up
the people in the water. The trawlers, having
saved a number of the swimmers, drew along-
side, one on either side the quarter. It was then
about twenty-five minutes from the time of the
explosion. The whole of the rest of the people
THE MINE 23
on board the Runo were then transhipped to the
trawlers.
The master was the last to leave his ship.
She was obviously sinking, but the master de-
termined to beach her if possible, and requested
the skipper of the trawler to take her in tow.
Two men of the Runo and two of the trawler's
crew went in the trawler's boat to the Runo
with a hawser, made it fast, and remained on
board the Runo. For all they knew she might
have gone down under their feet. And as soon
as the hawser tightened a noise like thunder
echoed in the bowels of the Runo. The bulk-
head of the main hold had collapsed under the
weight of water, and the Runo began to dip her
nose deeper. The master of the Runo instantly
signalled from the trawler ordering the four
men to return to her. These resolute seamen
promptly cut the hawser, tumbled into their
boat, cast off and pulled away. Scarce were
they clear of the doomed ship when she plunged
by the head, and the sea closed over her. It
was about an hour and forty minutes since she
had struck the mine.
The next day, Sunday, the skipper of a
trawler cruising in that place perceived a wide
litter of floating wreckage and boats floating
bottom upwards. He counted eight boats, all
of which were capsized except one, which was
full of water. The skipper picked up a
meat chest, a chest full of books, and a cork
jacket.
What became of the passengers who went
away in the boats? Those who were in the
m THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
first boat, launched under the orders of the
chief officer, were picked up by a trawler. The
boat which had a couple of passengers on board
simply vanished. Two boats which went away
full of people were afterwards recovered empty.
What had become of the passengers? The sea
was calm, and the boats were within a few
miles of the land when they left the ship. The
people in them had nothing to do but to sit
still, and they would have been rescued. Yet
they simply disappeared.
n
The Submarine
In the grey noon of an October day the
Glitra, an old, small iron steamship, was ap-
proaching the harbour of a neutral country,
whose tall headlands loomed ahead. So far the
master, following the directions of the Ad-
miralty, had brought his ship scathless. Within
an hour or two she would be safe.
The master and the chief officer were on the
bridge, and an able seaman was posted as look-
out on the forecastle head. Up went the flag
calling for a pilot, and presently the master des-
cried the pilot's motor-boat swiftly approach-
ing from the shore. At the same moment he
perceived a long and low object moving towards
him on the water some three miles to seaward.
The apparition was like a blow over the heart
to the men of the Glitra. But it might be a
British submarine. The master, staring through
his glass at the flag flying from the short mast
of the nearing vessel, made out the black Ger-
man eagles. The pilot saw them too, for he
went about, heading back to harbour ; and with
25
26 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
him the men of the Glitra beheld their last hope
for the ship implacably receding, and confronted
the inevitable with the dogged composure of
the British seaman.
The master altered course, steering away
from the submarine, which, fetching a wide
circle, drew towards the Glitra. The subma-
rine had the speed of the old cargo-boat, and as
she came closer the master heard the metallic
ring of tube-firing, and a flight of small shot
sang about his ears. Thereupon he stopped his
engines, and the Glitra lay still, while the sub-
marine drew nearer and stopped within a ship 's
length of the steamer. There she lay, the water
lipping on the rounded hull, from which the
conning-tower rose amidships. The command-
ing officer stood by the rail of the conning-tower,
and men were descending thence to the narrow
platforms fore and aft, and busying themselves
on the deck. Then the submarine hoisted the
code signal, meaning ' i drag-rope " ; and the
men on board the Glitra saw the Germans get a
collapsible boat into the water. Two men
pulled, and a third sat in the stern-sheets.
The men of the Glitra awaited events in
silence ; and the next thing of which the master
was acutely conscious was the cold muzzle of
a revolver pressing into the flesh of his neck,
while the excited German officer wielding that
weapon ordered him in throaty but intelligible
English to leave his bridge and to get his boats
away in ten minutes, as his ship was to be
torpedoed.
The master, going down on deck with a
THE SUBMARINE 27
disagreeable sensation as of a pistol aimed at
his back, mustered the silent crew, who assem-
bled under the hard eyes of three Germans cov-
ering them with revolvers, and who at the same
time beheld two guns on the submarine, one for-
ward and the other aft of the conning-tower,
trained expectantly upon the ship. Then the
master, looking directly at the small black circle
of the revolver's muzzle, was ordered to haul
down his flag. Still followed by the revolver,
he went to the halliards and dropped the flag
to the rail, over which it hung drooping and dis-
consolate. And then he was ordered to fetch
the ship's papers, which are the most sacred
trust of the master of a vessel. Down below he
went, with the pistol at his back ; and no sooner
had he vanished down the companion-way than
the German officer seized the flag, tore it across
and across, flung the pieces on the deck, and
stamped upon them like a maniac. The master
came on deck to witness the remarkable spec-
tacle of an officer of H.I.M. Imperial Navy wip-
ing his sea-boots on the Eed Ensign.
The German, having thus gratified his emo-
tions, again turned his revolver on the master,
ordered him to hand over the ship 's papers, for-
bade him to fetch his coat, and refused to allow
the crew, who were sullenly launching the three
boats, to get any additional clothing. Then the
German officer ordered the three boats to pull
to the submarine and to make fast to her.
The men of the Glitra, fetching up alongside
the submarine, gazed curiously upon the dull,
rigid faces of the German bluejackets, and
28 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
marked the strange and ugly forms of the
Tinfish, as the merchant service calls it. So
soon as the boats were made fast, the subma-
rine, with a grinding noise like the working of
millstones, drew off about a ship's length, tow-
ing the boats, and stopped again. During this
time the master, scanning his lost ship intently,
saw the three Germans left on board her hurry-
ing to and fro, taking his charts and compasses
and lowering them into their own boat. Then
one of them, supposed by the master to be an
engineer, went below. Presumably the German
turned on the sea-cocks, for the master pres-
ently observed the Glitra to be settling down
by the stern.
It was then about a quarter of an hour since
the crew had quitted the Glitra; and the com-
manding officer of the submarine ordered themas-
ter to cast ofT and to proceed towards the land.
As the boats drew away from his ship, lying
deserted and sinking lower into the water, the
master, watching, perceived the dim shape of
the submarine still circling about her, like a
sea-beast of prey. Gradually the boats drew
out of sight of the last scene.
The men had been rowing for about an hour
when the pilot-boat came up and took them in
tow. Then the men of the Glitra were taken on
board a neutral ship of war. The master of
the Glitra and the crew, thus stranded in a for-
eign man-of-war with nothing in the world ex-
cept what they had on, heard the growl of guns
rolling from seaward, where the submarine was
working her will on the desolate ship.
THE SUBMARINE 29
The capture and destruction of the Glitra
marks an early stage in the evolution of the
German pirate. The destruction of the ship in
default of having brought her before the Prize
Court of the enemy, was a violation of inter-
national law, which might, however, be defended
on the plea of necessity. The refusal to permit
officers and men to take with them their effects
was an infraction both of universal rule and of
the German Naval Prize Begulations of 1914.
On the other hand, it may be contended that
the enemy did in fact place the crew of the
captured ship in safety.
The British were threatened with revolvers,
and guns were trained upon them, but these
weapons were not fired, and no one was injured.
In his later stages the German pirate observed
no such restraint. As for the insult to the
British flag, while it may have been the result
of an unpleasant personal idiosyncrasy, it is
also significant of a mental condition prevailing
among German officers, of which examples sub-
sequently multiplied.
Ill
"War is War"
On November 23rd, 1914, the little cargo-
boat Malachite, four days out from Liverpool,
was drawing near to the French coast. It was
a quarter to four in the afternoon; the ship,
rolling gently to the easterly swell, was within
an hour or so of Havre, which lay out of sight
beyond Cape La Heve, darkening in the haze
some four miles distant on the port bow. The
master and the mate, who were on the bridge,
descried the indistinct form of a long and low
vessel lying about two miles away on the star-
board beam. As they looked, the mist clinging
about the unknown craft lit with a flash, fol-
lowed by the report of a gun, and a shot sang
across the bows of the Malachite. Then the two
officers on the bridge recognised the vessel to be
a German submarine. The first that the men
below in the engine-room knew was the clang
of the bridge-telegraph and the swinging over
of the needle on the dial to ' l stop. ' ' They eased
down the engines, and as the ship lost way, they
heard two long blasts of the steam whistle
30
"WAR IS WAR" 31
sounded on the bridge. Then silence, the ship
rolling where she lay.
The master and the mate, standing against
the bridge-rail, contemplated the approach of
the submarine. The German officer and the
quartermaster were on the conning-tower.
Abaft of the conning-tower, on deck, a seaman
stood beside a small gun, which was fitted with
a shoulder-piece. The submarine drew close
alongside the Malachite, and her officers looked
down into the eyes of the German naval officer,
and the German naval officer looked up at the
two British seamen. These knew well enough
what to expect, and merely wondered in what
manner it would arrive.
The German officer was polite but business-
like. Where have you come from? Where
are you going? What is your cargo? These
were his questions, framed in that school Eng-
lish which for many years every German mid-
shipman has learned as part of his pass exam-
ination, in order that he may communicate with
the conquered race of Britain.
The master gave the required information.
He could do nothing else. Then the submarine
officer gave an order, and a sailor ran along the
deck of the submarine and hoisted the German
ensign on the short mast mounted aft. All be-
ing now in order, the submarine officer requested
the master of the Malachite to prepare to leave
his ship at the expiration of ten minutes, and
to bring with him the ship 's papers.
The master, mustering the crew, got away
the two lifeboats, and fetched his papers. The
32 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
two boats came alongside the submarine; and
now the submarine officer gazed down at the
stolid British seamen, who were utterly in his
power, and they stared curiously up at the trim
and easy German.
The master, handing over his papers, since
there was no help for it, asked that the ship's
log and the articles might be given back to him.
The submarine officer declined to grant the re-
quest. Then he added, ' ' I am sorry I cannot ac-
commodate you and your crew, but war is war. ' '
Then he told the master to stand clear, and
as the two boats hauled off, the submarine got
under way. The men in the boats, resting on
their oars, saw the submarine open fire on the
Malachite at a range of about 200 yards, saw
the shot strike the ship at the base of the funnel,
and a hissing cloud of steam and smoke en-
shroud her, saw shot after shot pierce the hull,
and the ship beginning to settle down by the
head.
Darkness was gathering, and the fog was
closing in, when the master ordered the men to
give way, and steered towards Havre. As they
pulled through the gloom, the men in the boats
heard the intermittent bark of the gun sounding
from seaward. After about three-quarters of
an hour there was silence.
They came into Havre Harbour at half-past
eight, after a pull of some three and a half
hours. Subsequently they learned that the sub-
marine, having fired the ship, left her, and that
she remained afloat all that night and the next day.
The taking of the Malachite is typical of the
"WAR IS WAR" S3
end of the first phase of submarine warfare ; the
phase in which the German officer, individual
acts of brutality apart, at least recognised the
existence of the law of nations, used a certain
consideration for the crews of captured vessels,
and was occasionally even courteous. On the
other side, merchant ships were still totally de-
fenceless ; and sometimes, as in the case of the
Malachite, were taken within sight of land and
close to a port of arrival.
In the next phase of submarine warfare, war
was still war, but it was also murder. At the
beginning of February, 1915, Germany issued
the following official announcement:
(1) "The waters round Great Britain and
Ireland, including the English Channel, are
hereby declared a military area. From Febru-
ary 18th every hostile merchant ship in these
waters will be destroyed, even if it is not always
possible to avoid thereby the dangers which
threaten the crews and passengers.
(2) "Neutral ships will also incur danger in
the military area, because, in view of the misuse
of flags ordered by the British Government on
January 31st and the accidents of naval war-
fare, it cannot always be avoided that attacks
may involve neutral ships.
(3) "Traffic northwards around the Shetland
Islands, in the east part of the North Sea, and
a strip of at least thirty sea miles in breadth
along the coast of Holland is not endangered.
"(Sgd.) VonPohl,
"Chief of Admiralty Staff."
34. THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
To which laborious threat the British For-
eign Office, on February 7th, 1915, replied by-
stating that the use of a neutral flag by a bellig-
erent, within prescribed limitations, was per-
fectly legitimate, adding the extremely perti-
nent declaration that :
" To destroy ship, non-combatant crew and
cargo, as Germany has announced her intention
of doing, is nothing less than an act of piracy
on the high seas."
The Foreign Office does not specifically brand
the Imperial German Government as a pirate;
it declares that the doings of the public ships
of the Imperial German Government are acts
of piracy. It is hard to trace the distinction,
if indeed there be a distinction. The President
of the United States, in his message to Congress
of April 2nd, 1917, does in effect state that the
Imperial German Government is hostis humani
generis y which is the definition of a pirate. His
Majesty's Attorney-General, Sir Frederick
Smith, K.C., in his book "The Destruction of
Merchant Ships under International Law" (J.
M. Dent & Sons, London, 1917), states his con-
clusion as follows: "The very use of subma-
rines against merchantmen — even against ene-
my merchantmen, as has been shown above —
is unlawful. All — belligerents and neutrals
alike — who have suffered loss in lives or prop-
erty as a result of this unlawful conduct are
entitled to full reparation."
And what about the merchant seamen, shat-
tered, mutilated and drowned in pursuance of
their lawful occasions? This at least; that,
"WAR IS WAR" 35
while they endured and perished, a gigantic
storm of wrath was formidably gathering below
their horizon, the wrath of all other sea nations,
brooding upon Germany and Austria, and
charged with a vengeance insatiable as the sea.
The Germans, inherently treacherous, have
no notion of keeping their word, and they be-
gan, as usual, before the scheduled time. While
Admiral von Pohl, majestically ensconced in
the Reichsmarineamt in Berlin, was methodi-
cally inditing his lying accusation of the misuse
of the neutral flag by the British, a German
submarine (it was reported) was cruising about
the English Channel flying the French flag.
That was before January 30th, 1915 ; the Ger-
man proclamation of "military" murder
"area" was not issued until a day or two after-
wards, and therein it was stated that the new
arrangements were to begin on February 18th.
The ToJcomaru was sunk on January 30th.
She was a steamship of nearly 4,000 tons reg-
ister, had left Wellington, New Zealand, three
weeks previously, on January 22nd, and had
touched at Teneriffe, which port was swarming
with Germans. The ToJcomaru lay at Teneriffe
for eleven hours, during which time many shore
boats came alongside. The visitors could easily
have ascertained her destination. Whether or
not that circumstance was related to her de-
structionisnotknown. Teneriffe belongs to Spain.
Like the Malachite, the Tokomaru was bound
for Havre. Off Ushant she spoke a French
man-of-war, giving her name and destination.
36 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
At about nine o 'clock on the morning of Satur-
day, January 30th, 1915, she was within seven
miles of the Havre lightship. Somewhere on
the seafloor beneath the Tokomaru's keel lay
the bones of the Malachite. It was a fine, clear
morning, the land mistily sparkling beyond the
shining levels of the sea. Some of the crew
were busy about the anchors, preparing to moor.
The master and the second and third officers
were on the bridge. An able seaman was posted
on the forecastle head, looking out. Between
the ship and the shore a French trawler was
steaming about her business.
Without any sign or warning a tremendous
blow struck the ship on the port side with a loud
explosion, and a column of water, rising to the
height of the funnels, descended bodily upon
the three officers on the bridge, swept along the
decks, poured down the companion-ways, and
filled up the stokehold. The ship leaned over
to port, and officers and men felt her settling
down under their feet.
Several things happened simultaneously. The
master, cool and composed, looking seaward,
perceived a little hooded dark object cleaving
the surface about 600 yards away on the port
beam, and, making a path from it to the ship,
irregular, eddying patches of foam. There,
then, was the submarine and there was the track
of her torpedo, ending in a spreading inky patch
of water about the ship, where the sea was
washing the coal out of the bunkers. Even as
the master ordered the boats to be manned, the
periscope of the submarine disappeared. At
"WAR IS WAR" 37
the same time the wireless operator, shut up in
his room, was making the S.O.S. signal, and
the French trawler in the distance began to
steam at full speed towards the ship.
Owing to the list of the vessel the falls of the
boats jammed. The crew cut the ropes, ham-
mered away the chocks, and stood by, quietly
awaiting the order to launch. They were all
wet through, for those on deck had been smoth-
ered in the falling water, and those below had
struggled up the ladders against descending
torrents. There they stood, the deck dropping
by inches beneath their feet, and tilting towards
the bows, until the sea was washing over the
forecastle head, when the master ordered them
into the boats. The master was the last to leave
the ship. His cabin being full of water, he was
unable to save the ship's papers and money.
Sixty-two pounds belonging to the owners, and
about seventeen pounds belonging to the master
himself, were lost.
By this time the French trawler had come up,
and the officers and men, fifty-eight all told,
were taken on board. The trawler stood by,
while a flotilla of French torpedo-boats, arriv-
ing from Havre with several trawlers, steamed
swiftly in circles round the sinking ship, in or-
der to guard against a renewed attack.
At half-past ten, about an hour and a half
after she was torpedoed, the ToJcomaru, with
her cargo of general goods and fruit, went down
in a great swirl of water. When it had sub-
sided, the trawler moored a buoy over the spot,
and took the ToJcomaru' s people into Havre.
38 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
Then and there the master must begin his
dreary task of communicating with the British
Consul, and with his owners. And then mes-
sages in cypher sped over the cables to the For-
eign Office, to the Admiralty, and to all con-
cerned, altogether a surprising number of per-
sons ; while the German submarine sped on her
evil way, invisible.
Eleven days afterwards a lifebuoy, painted
white, and inscribed with the legend "S.S. To-
komaru, Southampton,' ' was picked up off
Dover.
The Last Chance
Eaely on the morning of July 4th, 1915, a
certain wireless station on shore took in and
recorded a conversation which was being car-
ried on between a vessel, the Anglo -Calif ornian,
in the North Atlantic, flying for her life, and
three of his Majesty's ships which were rushing
to her rescue. Figure to yourself the wireless
operator, a staunch youth, in his narrow room
abaft the bridge and exposed to fire, the ear-
pieces hooped over his head, making and taking
in messages amid the incessant detonation of
guns, the crash of striking shots, cries, the
pounding of feet along the decks, and the scream
of wounded animals piercing from below. And
picture, out of sight of the Anglo-Calif ornian,
three men-of-war foaming towards her, and in
the wireless room of each a tiny cabin opening
from the deck, a young bluejacket intensely oc-
cupied . . . And rapt in the same business, the
operator in the wireless station on shore. And
wherever the aerials pattern the sky, on sea or
land, the same words or part of them, so far as
the vibrations extend, flow into human cogni-
sance.
40 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
The Anglo-Calif omian, at 8.43 a.m. to Any-
one: "S.O.S., S.O.S. Being chased by subma-
rine, S.O.S." Then he gave the position of the
ship. No answer recorded. Twenty minutes
later A.-C. again gave position, adding, "Go
ahead. He is being led a dance and it is O.K.
to work for a few minutes. Now altering
course to south." Then "Are you ? He is
rapidly overtaking us."
Answer from the void: "Steer" (so-and-so)
"and keep me informed."
A.-C: "That is impossible. We are being
fired on"
Answer: "Where is submarine?"
A -C : ' ' Now astern. ' '
Answer: "Endeavour carry out instructions
— important. ' '
A.-C: "Can't — he is now on top of us and I
can hear his shots hitting us. ' '
Answer : ' ' On your port 1 ' '
A.-C: "Submarine on top of us and hitting
us." Then, "Captain says steering" (so-and-
so) "if he alters course will endanger ship."
Answer: A code message, followed first by a
conversation which told that more than one
man-of-war was answering the A.-C, and sec-
ondly by an order.
A.-C: "If we steer east we shall have sub-
marine a-beam. We can't do it."
Answer: "Please give your speed,"
which was given, with A.-C.'s position, and col-
our of her funnels. A.-C added, i ' Can see your
smoke, hold on."
THE LAST CHANCE 41
Answer: " According to your position I am
nine miles off you."
A.-C: "We are the transport Anglo-Cali-
fornian."
Answer: "Have you many passengers?"
A.-C: "No, but we are 150 men on board
as crew."
Answer: "Please fire rocket to verify posi-
tion." Followed by a conversation on the sub-
ject.
Answer: "What is position of submarine !"
A .-C : l l Eight astern firing at wireless. ' '
Answer: "Let me have your position fre-
quently. ' '
A.-C: "Now firing our rockets," followed
by information as to position.
This was at 10.9, and at 10.12, that is, when
the chase and attack had lasted for an hour
and a half, the Anglo-Califomicm made,
"Submarine signals abandon vessel as soon
as possible."
The answer was an order, to be carried out as
"a last resource."
A.-C: "No, no, she is too close."
Then the conversation became in the stress
of the moment even more like mediumistic com-
munications. The record runs :
A.-C: "We are stopped. Can see you."
(Or, "Can you see?")
Answer: "Stopped and blowing off. Can
see you distinctly. Am about S.W. from you,
hold on."
A.-C: "In what direction? He is on the
port side. We are between you and him.
42 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
Hurry, hurry, hurry. He is getting abeam to
torpedo us."
Answe r: "I am coming. ' '
A.-C: "We are keeping him astern now."
(?) Answer: "O.K. Endeavour to keep his
attention. ' '
Answer: "You will be quite safe when (il-
legible)."
A.-C: "Steering zig-zag." Followed by
questions and answers as to course and number
of masts of the Anglo-Californian, in the midst
of which A.-C. interjected, "For God's sake
hurry up. What gone ? Firing like blazes, ' ' and
"Keeping him astern. Hurry up."
Answer: "We are firing, can you inform re-
sult?"
A.-C: "Can hear you . . . have stopped
. . . no, no. . . . Several being wounded . . .
shrapnel, I believe."
Answer: "Keep men below or those on deck
to lay face down. ' '
A.-C. : "All taking shelter in front of bridge-
houses. He is firing shell." Followed by more
questions and answers as to masts and speed,
then ' ' Sub. keeping pace ; he is still very close,
within a couple of hundred yards. Captain
wants to know if you will fire to scare him."
Answer: "Firing to scare him; please head
towards me."
A.-C: "We can't; you are astern and so is
sub. Head for us in roundabout route. ' '
Answer: A tactical order, and an inquiry if
smoke can be seeu.
THE LAST CHANCE 43
A.-C: "Yes, yes, a long way off. Can see
your smoke astern."
Answer : § ' What bearing ? ' '
Two minutes later, after a confused inter-
change of messages, Anglo-Calif ornian said:
1 i They can 't tell what bearing, now sinking. ' '
Answer: "Are you torpedoed?"
A.-C: "Not yet, but shots in plenty hitting.
Broken glass all around me. Stick it, old man. ' '
( ?) Answer: "Yes — you bet."
A.-C. (suddenly becoming American in lan-
guage) : "Say, the place stinks of gunpowder,
am lying on the floor."
(?) Answer: "Nothing better, old man."
(?) "Keep your pecker up, old man."
A.-C: "Sure thing." And "Is there any-
thing else coming to us, please?"
Answer: "Yes, I am — coming full speed
knots. ' '
A.-C: "I have had to leave 'phones. Yes,
I say I smell gunpowder here strong and am
lying on the floor, my gear beginning to fly
around with concussion."
Answer: "... smoke W.N.W. of me. There
is a mass (?) of fight on our starboard side and
the sub. is on our port side. ' '
Three minutes later, at 11.23 (two hours and
three-quarters after the attack began), the
Anglo-Calif ornian makes :
"Submarine has dived. Submarine has
dived."
Answer: "Eeport her trail at intervals."
A.-C: "I hope she stops down there, it is
44 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
getting hot here," and after some remarks as
to position,
Answer: "Have you launched all boats?"
A.-C: "Yes. Two ships coming, one abeam
and one at the port quarter. Don't worry, he
has gone dipped."
Answer: "Has submarine gone?"
A.-C: "Yes."
It was now 11.42 in the forenoon, or four
hours since the attack had opened. What had
been happening during that time outside the
wireless room?
At eight o'clock in the morning the master,
an experienced seaman of fifty-seven, was on
the bridge, whence he sighted a submarine on
the port beam. She flew no colours and was
proceeding on the surface. The master in-
stantly altered course in order to place the sub-
marine astern of the Anglo-Calif ornian, tele-
graphed an order to the engine-room to increase
speed, and told our friend the wireless operator
to send out the S.O.S. signal. As it was an-
swered by a man-of-war, the master knew
thenceforth that if he could hold on long enough
he could save his ship and his very valuable
Government cargo. Altering course contin-
ually, he kept the submarine manoeuvring for an
hour; but the enemy was gaining on the ship,
and at nine o'clock the submarine opened fire.
She mounted a gun forward of her conning-
tower and a second gun of another calibre aft
of the conning-tower.
During the next half-hour men were being
hit, there was blood on the decks, the ship was
THE LAST CHANCE 45
frequently struck, and splinters were flying. As
the submarine manoeuvred to get into position
to fire a torpedo the master of the Anglo-Cali-
fornian twisted his ship away. As a fencer
watches the blade of his antagonist, so the
master fixed his gaze on the low hull, the figures
of the officer and helmsman on the railed con-
ning-tower, the gunners and the men firing rifles
from the deck, all wreathed with smoke, im-
placably determined to take his ship.
Then the submarine hoisted the signal A.B.,
"Abandon ship." It was at this moment that
the wireless operator signalled "Hurry, hurry,
hurry. He is getting abeam to torpedo us." It
appears that the submarine continued to fire
without cessation, while the master ordered the
engines to be stopped and the boats to be got
away. It is certain that the crew, getting into
the boats and hauling upon the falls, were fired
on; that when the boats were in the water
one was fired on; and that, in the stress and
confusion, both boats were capsized. Then the
submarine stopped firing.
At the same moment the smoke of one of the
pursuing men-of-war darkened on the horizon,
and projectiles fired at extreme range made
fountains about the submarine, and then it was
that the wireless operator received a message
from another man-of-war telling the Anglo-
Calif ornian to hold on.
At this the master resolved to make a last
effort to save his ship. In the water alongside
the men had righted the boats, and were ready
to shove off, when the master ordered them to
46 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
return to the ship. At first the firemen, who had
been desperately heaving coal below, living
from minute to minute, for more than two
hours, hung in the wind, but they came on board
and went below again, and once more hove coal
into the furnaces. The engines were started,
and as the ship gathered way the submarine
opened fire, aiming at the bridge and the boats.
The master's son, who was second officer, was
standing beside his father on the bridge when a
stunning shock flung him upon the deck, and
when he staggered to his feet, the master was
not there. He had been blown to pieces. The
young man seized the wheel; the next moment
a shot smashed a spoke; but he hung on, and
never stirred from his post until the rescue.
The first officer took command, and presently
two men-of-war hove in sight and the submarine
dived. It was then about half an hour since the
submarine had signalled "Abandon ship."
The master and eight men had been killed,
and seven men had been wounded. But they
had saved the ship. The master saved her by
taking the last desperate chance, but himself
he did not save.
The Anglo-CaUfornian was escorted into the
nearest port by the men-of-war, and after tem-
porary repairs had been executed, she pro-
ceeded upon her voyage.
Small Game
The little steamship Downshire was small
game, but the Germans are nothing if not thor-
ough. The case illustrates to what extent, in
these early stages of the war, the master felt
he could act on his own responsibility. He went
as far as he could. The German officer, al-
though, in sinking the Downshire, he was com-
mitting an act of piracy, behaved with courtesy
and consideration, and spoke "in perfect Eng-
lish."
The Downshire left an Irish port early in the
afternoon of February 20th, 1915, and by half-
past five, in a clear and calm twilight, she was
eight or ten miles from the English coast,
steaming at about nine knots, when the master
perceived a submarine. The enemy vessel was
running on the surface, nearly two miles away
on the starboard bow, and heading for the
Downshire.
The master instantly altered course to bring
the submarine astern of the Downshire, ordered
full speed, and roused out all the men, ten in
number. The submarine also altered course
and began to chase, rapidly overhauling the
47
48 STHE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
Downshire. At a range of about 400 yards the
submarine opened fire from the machine-gun
mounted on her deck.
Here was a pretty situation for the peaceful
master of a little coasting trader. He kept his
wits about him and his eyes on the enemy ; and,
continuing to manoeuvre his ship to put the
submarine astern, swiftly reckoned his chances.
People think, not in words, but in pictures, dim
or clear. The sharper the emergency, the more
vivid the picture. The master, never shifting
his steady seaman's gaze from the submarine
gaining hand over hand astern, beheld with his
inward eye the pieces of his problem sliding
together and slipping apart again as he bent his
mind to fit them to a pattern.
He foresaw the submarine, with her turn of
speed, drawing so close alongside that, as the
machine-gun crackled and spat, his men would
be struck down; he foresaw the long fifteen
miles to the nearest port, partly as measured on
the thumb-stained chart, partly as a seascape of
deep water, in which the submarine could ven-
ture all the way, knowing that she could safely
submerge at any moment ; he foresaw his ship,
shoving for safety under continued fire for an
hour and a half, splinters flying, men rolled on
the deck; he may even have seen himself,
crumpled up beside the wheel, and a darting
vision of the ship being taken after all; he
imagined the coiling track of a torpedo whiten-
ing towards him, and foretasted the ultimate
explosion ; and at the same moment he reckoned
the chance of the torpedo striking a hull draw-
SMALL GAME 49
ing four feet six inches forward and ten feet six
inches aft, and perceived that the torpedo might
pass under the keel, and also that it might
not. . . .
In the meantime the submarine was still gain-
ing on the Downshire. She fired a second shot.
The master, with his problem now resolved into
a grim pattern whose significance was impera-
tive and inexorable, may or may not have con-
sidered the possibility of ramming the subma-
rine. He had no instructions on the subject.
But if he did consider that possibility, he must
also have foreseen that if he failed in the at-
tempt, the submarine would certainly try to tor-
pedo him. If the torpedo hit, all was over. If
it missed, the enemy would give no quarter.
The submarine fired a third shot at close
range. That settled it. The master had held
on as long as he could. Utterly defenceless as
he was, he had not yielded at the first shot, nor
the second, nor until he saw that the submarine
had the speed of him. He stopped the engines.
The Downshire drifted on, losing speed, and lay
rolling slightly, while the submarine, drawing
up to within fifty yards of the port quarter,
stopped also.
The Downshire9 s firemen, who had been fu-
riously heaving coal, momently expecting the
next shot to crash into the engine-room and
very likely cut the main steampipe, came on
deck, black, sweating and sullen.
The German submarine officer, addressing the
Downshire "in perfect English' ' from his con-
ning-tower, courteously issued his orders. The
50 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
crew of the Downshire were to take to their
boats, and the master was to bring the ship's
papers to the submarine. (They could have
given small satisfaction to the German, for the
Downshire' s sole cargo was five tons of empty
cement bags.)
Even at this period of the war British seamen
knew enough of the German officer to know that
his temper was about as calculable as the temper
of a tiger. The crew of the Downshire launched
their two lifeboats, pulled towards the subma-
rine, and stared, composed and curious, at the
strange vessel and the foreign officer. That
personage was decisive but urbane. He re-
gretted the necessity of his action, which, he
said, was due to the exigencies of war. One
boat he ordered to pull to windward. The other
boat, in which was the master, was ordered
alongside the submarine. The master and the
boat's crew were taken on board, where they
scrutinised the white faces and the stiff over-
trained figures of the German bluejackets.
Then the submarine officer ordered the second
officer and the steward of the Downshire back
into their boat, telling them to get provisions
for the Downshire' 's men. Five men of the sub-
marine's crew pulled the boat to the Downshire,
and while the second officer and the steward
were fetching provisions from below and plac-
ing them in the boat, the Germans were occu-
pied in fixing a bomb under the Downshire.
These proceedings were watched in an ab-
sorbed silence by the master and the Down-
shire's men in the submarine, and by the men in
SMALL GAME 51
the second lifeboat, standing off at a little dis-
tance. It was the execution of their ship they
were contemplating. By this time it was evi-
dent that no harm to themselves was intended.
The first lifeboat, stocked with gear and pro-
visions, returned to the submarine. The Ger-
mans went on board, the master and the rest of
his men embarked again, shoved off, and pulled
away to join the second lifeboat, while the sub-
marine got under way, drew further from the
ship, stopped again, and waited.
The men of the DownsJiire rowed away into
the gathering darkness, and the submarine
faded out of sight, and the form of the lonely
ship grew blurred and dim. There was a flash
of fire, the sound of a dull explosion rolled
across the water, the distant ship plunged bows
under and vanished.
It was then six o'clock. The whole episode
had lasted half an hour. Within the next half-
hour the Downshires were picked up by two
steam drifters.
The treatment by the German officer of the
officers and men of the DownsJiire shines by
contrast with the conduct of some of his col-
leagues. That circumstance does not alter the
fact that, in destroying the ship and in setting
her people adrift, he violated the law of the sea.
VI
1 ' Where is ' Harpalion ' ? "
It was tea-time on board the steamship Har-
palion proceeding up the Channel, bound for
the United States. The third officer went to the
bridge, the master and the Trinity House pilot
went down to the master's cabin to tea. The
second officer sat at tea with the engineers, and
here follows his account of what happened.
"We had just sat down to tea at the engi-
neers' table, and the chief engineer was saying
' Grace.' He had just uttered the words 'For
what we are about to receive may the Lord make
us truly thankful,' when there came an awful
crash. I never saw such a smash as it caused.
Cups and dishes were shattered to pieces, every-
thing in the pantry was broken, and photo-
graphs screwed into the walls fell oft' "
So the second officer told The Times, from
whose issue of February 25th, 1915, the passage
is quoted. Such was the event inside the ship.
Now let us look at it from outside, from the
bridge of a distant man-of-war. Her command-
ing officer, watching the Harpalion afar off, saw
a column of water leap alongside her, then an-
.52]
"WHERE IS 'HARPALION'?" 53
other, and heard the dull boom of an explosion,
like the slamming of a heavy door in a vault,
instantly followed by a second boom. He or-
dered full speed and steamed towards the Har-
palion.
On board her, master, pilot, officers and crew
had all tumbled up on deck, where, in a fog of
steam and smoke, they were just in time to
receive the descending fountain of the second
explosion. The ship listed to port and began
to settle by the head; it was reported to the
master that three firemen had been killed below ;
and he saw to seaward the periscope of a sub-
marine. He also beheld the comfortable spec-
tacle of a King's ship tearing towards him with
a bone in her mouth.
The master ordered the boats to be got away.
One was already in the water, filled with men,
by the time the man-of-war drew close along-
side. Her commanding officer hailed the mas-
ter, who instantly informed the naval officer of
the presence of an enemy submarine. The naval
officer assumed the conduct of affairs. He or-
dered the boat's crew then afloat to stand by to
help save the rest of the crew ; and immediately
started in pursuit of the submarine, cruising
at high speed about the Harpalion while her
people were getting into the boats. Failing to
find the submarine, the man-of-war returned,
embarked the master, the pilot, the rest of the
officers and the crew, thirty-nine all told, and
three dead men, and let the boats drift.
The naval officer and the master then took
counsel together. The master thought the ship
54 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
was sinking. The naval officer thought she was
likely to keep afloat, but that, as the enemy
submarine was probably hanging about, it
would be unsafe to leave the crew in the Har-
palion. It was therefore decided to land the
crew. The naval officer signalled to the nearest
naval station asking that a tug should be sent,
and proposed that the Harpalion should be left
anchored with lights burning, an arrangement
which was not, in fact, carried into execution.
The man-of-war went on to the nearest naval
station and landed the living and the dead.
She then reported events to her own naval sta-
tion. The ship was torpedoed at alittle after five
o'clock in the afternoon of Wednesday, Febru-
ary 24th, 1915. By a quarter to six she was
abandoned. For nearly twelve hours afterwards
the Harpalion was lost. The naval officer was
right; she was not sinking. If a tug was sent
out that evening in response to the signal, she
failed to find the Harpalion.
But let it not be supposed that the Admiralty
allows a ship to disappear without explanation.
That evening and the next day, Thursday, the
Admiralty was asking every naval station in
the vicinity of the loss, " Where is Harpalion?"
Station A reported trying to find Harpalion,
incidentally reporting at the same time that
three other vessels had been put down. Station
B reported Harpalion derelict, anchored, lights
burning, and later, "Cannot find, but search-
ing." Station C replied, "Not in my district."
Where was Harpalion? She was simply drift-
ing about, masterless and miserable. She
"WHERE IS 'HARPALION'?" 55
drifted from 5.45 p.m. on Wednesday to 4 p.m.
on Thursday. Then she was sighted by the
steamship Ariel, whose master promptly sent
four men on board to investigate matters. It
was clearly a salvage case ; but in their deposi-
tion the four gallant seamen say simply, "We
four men got on board as prize crew."
To be precise, a prize crew is a crew placed
by the captor on board a vessel captured by an
act of war. Salvage is another affair. Any
ship succouring another vessel, derelict or
wrecked, is entitled to claim reward from the
owners. In the case of the Ariel and Harpalion,
it would seem that the men of the Ariel, consid-
ering their help to be in the nature of war serv-
ice rather than a commercial transaction, pre-
ferred to call themselves a prize crew. But this
is conjecture, for the four deponents, appearing
for a moment in the light of history, have gone
again. There were the first officer of the Ariel,
two able seamen and one apprentice.
They boarded the deserted Harpalion on
Thursday afternoon, and their own ship, the
Ariel, went on her way short-handed. What
they did next is not revealed, except that they
tried to take her to Cardiff. Their situation
was dangerous enough. The ship was full of
water forward, and listing to port. At any
moment a questing submarine might have sent
her to the bottom without warning. Presum-
ably the Prize Crew tried to get steam on her,
but there is nothing to show that they were suc-
cessful. If they failed, the ship was not under
control. If they succeeded, their progress must
56 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
have been very slow. In any case, there were
only four men, instead of forty-one, to work a
ship of 3,669 tons register. The chief officer
would be on the bridge, steering and conning
the ship, one able seaman in the stokehold, one
in the engine-room, leaving the apprentice for
services as requisite, such as getting meals,
carrying messages, and doing odd jobs.
The full story of that night on board the
Harpalion spent by the prize crew adrift in a
ship which they believed to be sinking, remains
to be told. Perhaps it will never be told, like
many another deed of the sea.
Early on the Friday morning wind and sea
began to rise. The Harpalion was then within
about twenty miles of the spot upon which she
had been torpedoed. The ship was heavily
water-logged; the water was washing in and
out of her, and the chief officer was unable to
keep her head to the sea. They drifted help-
lessly before the gale in that dark and bitter
February morning, until eight o'clock, the hour
at which all over the world the white ensign is
hoisted in the quarter-deck of his Majesty's
ships. And at that hour the men of the Harpa-
lion descried three men-of-war surging toward
them through the smothering sea. Two flew the
tricolour and one the white ensign.
The British torpedo-boat drew near and hove
a line on board the Harpalion. The prize crew
hauled it in, hauled in a grass rope, hauled in a
hawser and made it fast, and the little torpedo-
boat began to tow the dead weight of the big
cargo-boat. The weather grew worse, and the
"WHERE IS 'HARPALION'?" 57
torpedo-boat, unable to make any way, was
obliged to cast off. "We still stuck to the
Harpalion," the prize crew deposed. They
stuck to her all that day, in wind and sea, A
tug came, but so heavy was the weather she
could not get the Harpalion in tow, and so stood
by her. Night came, and still the prize crew
stuck to their prize. Towards midnight the
ship was settling dangerously, and the prize
crew were forced to conclude that they could do
no more. At half-past eleven on that Friday
night they went over the side into their boat,
left the Harpalion and went on board the tug.
They were not much too soon. Thirty-five min-
utes afterwards the Harpalion went down.
The tug landed the prize crew at Havre,
where, before the vice-consul, they made a de-
position of the shortest recording their adven-
ture, and so went their ways.
All that Friday the unseen eye of the Admir-
alty had been bent upon the Harpalion. Naval
station D having reported " Cannot find Har-
palion/' naval station B reported "Harpalion
picked up by Ariel," and later "Abandoned
by Ariel." Naval station A reported "Harpa-
lion being towed. ' '
Finally, on Saturday, Lloyds reported "Har-
palion sunk." But she had floated for fifty-five
hours after having been torpedoed. So the
naval officer was right in his estimate. Of that
period, she was twenty-three hours derelict,
thirty-one-and-a-half hours in charge of the
prize crew, and a final half -hour again derelict
in the storm.
VII
Netsuke
The stress of the long vigil was ended. No
more the uneasy ship throbbed through the
haunted twilight of dusk and dawn, the eyes
upon her deck incessantly roving the restless
field of sea, while the men below hearkened
through the humming of the furnaces and the
beat of the engines for the fatal detonation. All
that fevered life was past, whelmed in the deep
sea. There were left a profound silence, an im-
mense desolation.
In the midst thereof a small, tawny figure,
naked to the waist, sat cross-legged on a little
raft of wreckage, one tattooed arm clasping a
pole, from whose top the flag of a torn garment
flew to the wind. It sat as motionless as the
carved ivory it wore at its belt. But the black
eyes of the Japanese were open, scanning the
wide sea-line.
A little way off, now hidden by a wave from
the eyes of the Japanese, now revealed, the head
and shoulders of a seaman were bowed upon
the stump of a broken spar.
58
NETSUKE 59
Except for these two figures, there was noth-
ing save broken water under the vast grey arch
of the sky.
The two castaways had passed beyond
thought to mere endurance. The progress of
time was naught save an intensifying misery.
So the hours went by, and still the Japanese
sat cross-legged on his little raft, one tattooed
arm clasped about the pole, his flag streaming
against the inexorable grey, his black eyes open,
staring at the far sea-line ; while a little way off
the seaman, prone upon his spar, rolled and
tumbled with the swell.
So they were sighted from a steamship; so
rescued. When the seaman had come to life
again he said: "When the ship was struck I
see the little Japanese dive clear of her. After
being drawn down and coming up again, I got
hold of a spar and hung on to it ; and I see the
little Japanese swimming about as lively as a
water-chick, collecting bits of wood, gratings
and what-not. As he got each piece he tied it
to the rest with some line he had, though how he
got it I couldn't say; and swimming on his raft,
collected more pieces, and lashed the whole to-
gether till it would bear his weight. Then he
steps a mast, all shipshape and Bristol-fashion,
and hoists his vest for a signal of distress. All
this time he looks at me now and again with a
smile. I told him not to mind me, as I could
hang on. Then he sits himself in the midst of
his raft like an image. Clever thing as ever I
see. He deserved to be saved if ever, so he
did," said the British seaman.
60 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
The little Japanese smiled and said nothing.
The two shipwrecked men were landed and
were taken to that admirable and invaluable in-
stitution, the Home of the British and Foreign
Sailors' Society. The seaman signed on and
departed in another ship, the Japanese remain-
ing for a day or two. To him came the wife of
one of the seamen who had been on board the
lost ship to ask for news.
The little Japanese stood before the anxious
woman, and his face was impassive, except his
eyes, and his hands fluttered like birds.
"On deck," said the little Japanese, "captain
— donkeyman — mate — seamen, one, two, thlee."
He made a bridge of his hands, and swiftly re-
versed them. "Ship so. Captain — donkeyman
— mate — seamen, one, two, thlee. ' ' He drew his
hand across his throat, which clicked. "All
gone." He pointed downward. "Your man
too."
The woman went away. The little Japanese
went to sea.
VIII
The Sole Survivor
The steamship Tangistan, homeward bound
from the Mediterranean laden with a full cargo
of iron ore, was within a tide of her port of
destination, in the north. There had been no
alarms during the voyage ; no enemy submarine
had been reported during her passage through
home waters; and merchant seamen in those
days did not seem to regard mines as a real
danger. So that when the Irish seaman joined
the watch below at midnight, he and his mates
had an easy mind. The Irishman, instead of
turning in, lit his pipe and, sitting on the edge
of his bunk, joined in the talk, which ran on
what they would do when the ship fetched up
in port next day. Seamen seldom talk about
the sea if they can help it. They look backward
to the last spell on shore, and forward to the
next, where, with a pocketful of pay, they can
buy the earth for a day or two, or even (with
luck) for a week.
So the watch below sat and gossiped in the
hot, dense reek of the cabin, where the electric
[61]
62 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
light was hued with tobacco smoke, and the
oilskins hanging on the bulkhead swayed to
and fro as the vessel rolled at slow speed.
"Suddenly the ship was brought up with a
great shock as if she had struck a rock, and her
lights were immediately extinguished. ' ' So
said the Irish seaman, afterwards.
With the rest of the men he ran up on deck,
which was sinking beneath his feet. There was
a swift and orderly movement in the dark, and
orders were being shouted from the bridge.
The Irishman went directly to his station at the
port lifeboat, slung a lifebelt over his head, and
unloosed one of the falls ready to lower away.
Two men got into the boat ; a third seaman and
the Irishman lowered her; and the next thing
the Irishman knew, the solid ship drew him
bodily downwards and an immense weight of
icy water closed over him. The Irishman, hold-
ing his breath, swam desperately upwards. He
thought he would burst; he thought he would
never prevail; he thought he would die; and
then, with a sob, he clove the surface, and trod
water, panting. Then he arranged his lifebelt
properly under his arms, saw a bulk of wreck-
age floating, swam to it, got his leg over it, and
so remained. Harsh cries rang through the
dark, and the Irishman recognised the voices
and lingo of the Arab firemen, and at a little
distance he saw four of them clinging, like him-
self, to some wreckage. The ship was gone.
Of all her people, himself and the four firemen
were left alive.
The Irishman, clasping his spar and heaving
THE SOLE SURVIVOR 63
up and down on the long swell, felt the cold
turning his very bones to ice. He had no idea
how long it would be before he was numbed into
unconsciousness, when his hold would be loosed
and he would be drowned ; but it seemed to him
that he would last longer than the four unhappy
children of the sun who were crying yonder. He
cried out likewise, at the full pitch of his voice,
and very likely the exertion helped to keep him
going. But his hails sounded in his own ears
little as the whining of a sea-gull, and wholly
impotent to travel in the great vault of night
and tossing sea. Still he called aloud, for he
was in the track of steamers.
And presently he saw a steamer. She carried
no lights, but he descried her form, a darker
shape upon the sea and sky, and saw the sparks
volley from her funnel.
He shrieked till his voice broke, but the
steamer went on and vanished. The Irishman
was furiously enraged ; but it was of no use to
be angry. He went on calling. So did the other
four castaways, but their cries were growing
fainter and less frequent.
Then there loomed another steamer, and she,
too, went on. It seemed to the Irishman that
he was doomed; but he went on calling. An
Irishman dies hard. By this time perhaps an
hour had gone by, and the Arab firemen had
fallen silent. The Irishman could see them no
longer. He never saw them again.
A third steamer hove in sight, and she, too,
went on.
The Irishman cursed her with the passionate
64 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
intensity peculiar to the seaman, and went on
calling. It was a desperate business now; lie
could not last much longer; but he would not
be ' ' bet, ' ' as he called it.
Then a fourth steamer came towering upon
the night, and the Irishman bellowed like a bull.
Did she hear? Not she — not listening — not
caring — not likely. No — Yes! She was slow-
ing down. There was an answering hail. Stop-
ping. Stopped. Away boat.
Crying and calling, the Irishman sat on his
spar, and heard the grunt of the oars in the
rowlocks, and saw the sweep of the blades and
the dim foam, and then faces bending over him
with kindly speech, and he was hauled into the
blessed boat and into life. He had been in the
water for two hours and ten minutes. Dip your
hand in next time you are on the North Sea in
winter, and see what it feels like.
And next day he was in port, as he had an-
ticipated; except that he had nothing in the
world but the borrowed suit of clothes he wore,
and the borrowed boots in which he trod the
familiar pavement on the way to the Sailors'
Home.
IX
According to Instructions
The master of the steamship Headlands,
which was entering the western approaches of
the Channel, descried a burning ship. She lay
about five miles distant to the eastward, and a
thick smoke ascended from the forward part of
her. The master, obeying the custom of the
sea, despite of peril of mine and submarine,
altered course to go to the assistance of the
ship overtaken by disaster.
It was then nine o'clock of a fine clear day,
Friday, March 12th, 1915. Ere twenty minutes
had gone by, the master saw the conning-tower
and masts of a submarine, which was then some
three miles away, and which was heading south,
towards the Headlands. And then he saw, fur-
ther away, a little patrol boat heading for the
submarine, saw the flash of guns, and heard
the distant clap of their explosion, as the patrol
boat fired at long range on the submarine.
The master immediately perceived several
things at once. He perceived that in all proba-
bility the burning vessel had been set on fire by
the submarine; that the pitrol boat was attend-
165]
66 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
ing to the submarine, and that the Headlands
had run into an affair from which the sooner she
departed the better. So the master put his helm
hard a-starboard and steered for the majestic
lighthouse which towers, a white policeman with
a lantern, at the sea-turning to the port.
The Headlands was shoving along as fast as
she could go, when the master saw that the
submarine was slashing along on the surface so
fast that the patrol boat was being left far
astern, and also that the submarine was catch-
ing up the Headlands. The master, like other
masters since, had occasion to reflect what hap-
pens when you leave your course to help a
friend in trouble. Also he had time to frame
his plan of action.
He decided to run for it, to hold on, and to
force the submarine to expend a torpedo before
he surrendered. It might miss him. If it hit,
that could not be helped. He wished the ship's
bottom had been clean, when he could have got
another two knots out of her. The submarine
continued to gain on the Headlands.
The master went below, unlocked all his con-
fidential papers, and burned them in the cabin
stove, took his hand camera, and returned to
the bridge.
The chase had begun at about twenty minutes
to ten, and after about half an hour the sub-
marine was within speaking distance astern,
and her commanding officer was hailing the
Headlands to stop. The master made no reply.
He read the number of the submarine — "TJ 29"
— and then he knew he was being chased by the
ACCORDING TO INSTRUCTIONS 67
notorious Captain Otto Weddingen, who (it was
believed) had sunk the armoured cruisers
Aboukir, Cressy and Hogue. The master took a
photograph of "U 29,' ' which vessel, he after-
wards reported, was "of the latest type."
Captain Otto Weddingen told the master that
he would sink him in five minutes. The master,
still disdaining to reply, ordered the crew to
get their gear together, and held on his course.
At 10.25 the submarine fired a torpedo. It
struck the Headlands abaft the engine-room,
and she began to settle down. The submarine
instantly went about and made off at full speed.
The people of the Headlands took to their boats,
whence they perceived, far away, patrol vessels
which were apparently hunting the "U 29/ '
Half an hour later the boats were taken in tow
by patrols, which landed them in port at two
o'clock that afternoon.
In the meantime the submarine had sped over
twenty miles to the westward and had sunk
another ship. The vessel to whose assistance
the master of the Headlands had been going
was still burning. She was the Indian City,
and she sank during the afternoon of the next
day. The Headlands was still settling down. A
steamer from the port went out to her, and had
towed her to within a mile of the lighthouse
she had failed to reach when, at eight o'clock
in the evening, down she went.
Here is the master's (unofficial) comment,
which I am permitted to quote:
"I am naturally sorry that the old Headlands
has gone, the more so as I have lost something
68 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
like £150 in stores and personal effects. Still,
I have the satisfaction of knowing that to the
last minute we did all possible to avoid capture
by carrying out the stipulated Admiralty in-
structions."
As for the "U 29," a fortnight later she was
reported by the British Admiralty as having
been sunk with all hands.
Had the master of the Headlands been pro-
vided with a gun, he would have had another
story to tell; such a story, for instance, as the
record of the little steamship Atalanta.
On a wild autumn morning in the following
year the Atalanta was pounding up the Channel
against a full north-westerly gale, when the
master descried a boat, now swung to the crest
of a wave, the crew pulling steadily, now swal-
lowed up from view. The master altered course
to pick up the castaways, and manoeuvred the
steamship to put the boat under her lee. A
rope was flung to the men, and they climbed on
board, eleven French seamen from the sailing
ship Marechal de Villars, which had been sunk
by an enemy submarine.
The Frenchmen were rescued at about ten
o'clock on the morning of September 11th, 1916.
Three-quarters of an hour later the master
sighted a German submarine. Her square,
slate-coloured conning-tower, rounded at the
fore-end, was forging through the breaking sea,
off the starboard bow of the Atalanta, between
two and three miles distant from her.
The master of the Atalanta altered course to
put the submarine astern, ordered full speed,
ACCORDING TO INSTRUCTIONS 69
and posted the gun's crew at the gun mounted
on the quarter.
The submarine fired. The range was about
5,000 yards, and the shot struck the sea short of
the Atalanta. The submarine fired again, and
again the projectile fell short. The range had
decreased to about 4,000 yards, and the Atalanta
fired at the submarine, the shot falling short of
her. After an interval of five minutes the enemy
fired again, and the Atalanta courteously re-
plied. There was a third exchange, and then the
submarine, with a parting shot, went about and
headed for a steamer then visible on the horizon.
The Atalanta went on her way. On this occasion
three rounds sufficed to discourage the enemy.
The "Lusitania"
The fact seems to be that, in spite of their
threats, no one really believed the Germans
would put down the Lusitania. According to
the evidence of surviving passengers, the twelve
hundred passengers felt little apprehension.
Either they had not heard of the warnings be-
fore coming on board, or, having heard these
rumours, they thought nothing of them, and,
in any case, they relied for their safety upon
the speed of the vessel and the protection, upon
approaching British shores, of British men-of-
war. Thus, when the passengers went to lunch
on Friday, May 7th, 1915, the south coast of
Ireland being then in sight, all was as usual.
So, at least, it appears; for the evidence of a
few out of so many cannot be conclusive.
The purpose of the following narrative is
neither to record the technical aspect of the
event nor to depict its horror, but to exemplify
the conduct of officers and men, in so far as it
can be ascertained. Nor is it part of the au-
thor's business to reflect upon the crime of the
Germans, which in this case differed only in
degree and not in kind from other murders, and
which will bring its own punishment in due
time.
70
THE "LUSITANIA" 71
At two o'clock on that Friday afternoon a
couple of able seamen went up to relieve the
men keeping a look-out in the crow's-nest on
the foremast. One took the port side, the other
the starboard side.
The man on the port side scanned the smooth
bright sea and marked the coloured cliffs of the
Irish coast showing through the haze. The man
on the starboard side saw the field of water
stretching clear to the horizon, with here and
there a distant boat.
Said port to starboard, "Anything in sight V
To which starboard replied, "Nothing do-
ing.' '
There was a few minutes' silence. Then
starboard said to port :
"Good God, Frank, here's a torpedo!" And
he shouted to the bridge below with all his
strength.
Port, turning to his mate's side, perceived a
white track lengthening swiftly from a spot
some two hundred yards away from the ship.
The next moment came an order from the
bridge: "All hands to boat stations," and the
men went down.
When the A.B. told his mate there was a
torpedo coming, the master, standing outside
the door of his room on the A deck, also saw the
white track. The quartermaster at the wheel
heard the second officer sing out, "Here is a
torpedo." An able seaman on the saloon deck,
looking through the port, saw a ripple on the
water about 300 yards distant, then the white
track, and then he saw the torpedo itself, and
n THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
cried out a warning. Three passengers, stand-
ing on the upper deck aft, and gazing out to
sea, saw what they described as something like
a whale or a porpoise rising out of the sea about
three-quarters of a mile away, leaving a little
trail of white bubbles. Then from that object
they saw a white track heading towards them.
At first no one spoke, though all had the same
thought. Then one said, " Looks like a torpe-
do," and another said, "My God, it is a tor-
pedo.' ' The white track, drawing nearer to the
ship, was hidden from the sight of the passen-
gers on the upper deck high above the water,
and they said that for a second they had a kind
of hope it would not explode.
Another passenger saw a streak of white, as
if made on the water by the tail of a fish, and
then he saw a periscope. A woman said to him
lightly, "It looks like a torpedo coming.' '
The next moment another passenger, leaning
over the rail, actually saw the torpedo strike the
hull between the third and four funnels. He
said the sound of the explosion was like a heavy
door slammed by the wind.
The master, standing outside his room, was
flung to the deck by the shock, and, picking
himself up, ran to the navigation bridge. As
he ran he felt a second explosion. The ship was
already listing to starboard. The master or-
dered all hands to the boats, signalled to the en-
gine-room a preconcerted signal, but there was
no answering movement of the ship. The mas-
ter told the quartermaster to put his helm hard
a-starboard. The quartermaster reported hard
THE "LUSITANIA" 73
a-starboard. The master said, "All right, boy,"
and told the second officer to note what list
the vessel had, and the quartermaster to keep
her head on Kinsale. It was the right seaman 's
resource to try to beach her.
The first officer was seated at lunch in the
saloon when the torpedo struck. He ordered all
the starboard ports to be closed, and struggled
with the passengers up to the boat deck. The
intermediate third officer, who was also seated
at lunch in the saloon, went up to his boat sta-
tion on C deck, starboard side. A second-class
waiter, in his pantry, felt the ship shake heavily,
saw people crowding up on deck, and went up
to his boat station. The junior third officer was
in the officers' smoke-room on the bridge deck.
The lights went out; he ran up to the bridge,
the ship leaning over, a shower of fragments
falling from above the funnels, saw the white
track of the torpedo, and heard the master or-
der the swung-out boats to be lowered to the
rail. The A.B. on the saloon deck who had seen
the white track and shouted a warning before
the torpedo struck was already at his boat sta-
tion. The passengers on the upper deck were
staggering to the port side, up the deck, which
sloped at about the angle of an ordinary slate
roof, arms clasped over their heads, pieces of
the ship falling all about them, and immersed
in a black cloud of smoke and water, whose va-
porous outer edge shone white. Passengers
were crowding on deck from below, and some
of the women were weeping.
74 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
What was happening below, in the rooms and
alleyways of that floating steel town?
The junior second engineer was in his cabin
when he heard a grating noise, and the ship
heeled over. Going out into the alleyway, he
was told what had happened. Then he dressed
himself, went to the lifebelt locker, served out
lifebelts to passengers, thence he went to the
engine-room and told the firemen to get away
up through the engine-room skylight. Then,
and not till then, he went up on deck to his
boat station.
The second senior third engineer, on watch in
the engine-room, had made out the speed of the
vessel by reckoning the revolutions when the
shock came. In a moment the main steam
dropped to 50 lbs. The pointer on the signal
dial worked from the bridge switched to full
speed astern and then full speed ahead, as ar-
ranged in case of emergency to get full steam
on. But there was no steam. The lights burned
dim. The engineer officer started to go to the
store to get lamps, but failing to get through
the men rushing to the upper deck, he turned
back to the platform in case there should be
more signals. Thence he descended to the lower
plates to see if the watertight doors were closed.
The lights went out. Groping in darkness and
alone, the engineer officer ascertained that the
water-tight doors were closed, and judged that
the turbines and the pumps had stopped work-
ing. Then he went up to C deck.
In the meantime the first junior third engi-
neer, who was in No. 3 boiler-room, heard the
THE "LUSITANIA" 75
explosion, felt the ship's list, and closed the
nearest water-tight door by hand. The forward
water-tight door, starboard side, was blocked
by escaping firemen. So the engineer officer as-
cended to the fan flats, went through the fire-
men's quarters and along the engine-room to
his cabin on C deck, and thence to his boat sta-
tion.
A leading fireman, working in No. 3 section
of the port-side stokehold, felt a crash as if the
ship had struck a rock. The men about him
cried out, "They have got us at last," and
dashed into the after stokehold. The leading
fireman did not follow them. He stopped to
think. Having decided what to do, he went into
the next section, into which the water was flow-
ing, and forced the water-tight door shut
against the stream. Then he climbed up to the
fan flats to his quarters, took a lifebelt in his
hand, and went up to C deck. A passenger
snatched the belt from him and ran. The fire-
man vaguely understood that word was being
passed that the ship would not sink, and went
on to his boat station.
The curt narratives of these survivors disen-
gage a phantom vision of the stunning reality.
The huge vessel, into which some two thousand
souls had been decanted, is speeding on the
bright sea, each of her inhabitants busy about
his private concern, working the ship, tending
the engines, feeding the furnaces, gossiping,
dozing, caring for the children, leisurely lunch-
ing, when there comes a shock, a jar, and a
trembling and the ship tips sideways, and to
76 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
every soul on board there rises the immediate
prospect of death.
Death or no death, to the officers and the
ship's company there is duty to be done. The
master, upon whom rests the whole responsibil-
ity, gives his orders from the tilting bridge,
sinking momentarily nearer the water; the
quartermaster puts the wheel over ; the officers,
scattered about the ship, instantly do the near-
est piece of work, help and encourage the pas-
sengers and go to their boats. The engineers
methodically attend to the engines, while the
lights burn dim and are presently extinguished.
The men from the foretop, saloon, and stoke-
hold go to their boat stations. The passengers,
with one accord, are pouring up to the slanting
decks, where everything is sliding and slip-
ping. . . . According to testimony, there was
very little panic, but some of the women were
weeping.
The master, speaking from the bridge, had
ordered the boats to be lowered to the rail;
and women and children first. He saw that,
owing to the heeling over of the ship to star-
board, it would be dangerous to lower the port
side boats to the rail, because they would swing
inboard, strike the slanting deck and turn over.
He saw that until the ship stopped it would be
dangerous to lower the starboard side boats
into the water because, owing to the way of the
vessel, they might capsize. There was there-
fore an interval, during which officers and men
strove to load the boats with passengers and
get them away.
THE "LUSITANIA" 77
The master on the bridge knew that the en-
gines were powerless, and that the vessel would
presently stop, so that he could not beach her.
The quartermaster reported that she kept pay-
ing off. The second officer, watching the ship
heeling over, reported 15 degrees of list, and
then an increase. The water was lipping over
the starboard end of the bridge. The master
told the quartermaster to save himself, and the
quartermaster, having no lifebelt, waded waist-
deep into the rising water, got a lifebuoy and
was then washed into the sea. The master re-
mained on the high end of the bridge.
What was happening on the tilted deck?
The first officer, who had been at lunch in
the saloon, was getting people into a boat on
the starboard side. By that time the ship was
listing 40 degrees, and sinking by the head, and
the boat was therefore hanging from the davits
several feet away from the rail. The first offi-
cer, with immense difficulty, transferred about
eighty persons across this chasm into the boat
and then lowered the boat into the water. Peo-
ple were then slipping down the deck into the
sea. The first officer remained in the ship, the
people in the boat calling to him to come down.
The forward bridge was awash, and the ship
evidently sinking fast. The first officer went
down the falls and dropped into the boat. Two
or three minutes afterward the ship stood on
her nose and went down, and the boat was
dragged this way and that in the whirlpool.
The junior second engineer, coming up from
directing the firemen, came to his boat on the
78 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
port side, where were some of the boat's crew
and a crowd of passengers. He lowered the
boat to the level of the deck and filled her with
women. Then the heeling over of the vessel
flung the boat inboard and capsized her on the
top of her passengers. The engineer officer,
hanging on to a davit, went down with the ship,
and presently came up again. While the junior
second engineer was hanging on the davit and
the passengers were sliding from under the cap-
sized boat down the deck and into the water,
the second senior third engineer, having done
all he could below, climbed over the rail on the
port side and walked down the hull into the sea.
The first junior third engineer, having shut
watertight doors and the like below, came up
to the starboard side, where the first officer was
loading his boat. The first junior third engi-
neer took charge of his own boat. He stood by
the after falls, and an able seaman stood by the
forward falls. They lowered the boat to the
deck and put about thirty women into her. Then
they lowered the boat into the water, the junior
third engineer, like the first officer, remaining
in the ship. When the rail had dropped to
within about ten feet above the boat, he jumped
down into her, seized an oar and tried to shove
off from the ship's side. A dense cloud of water
mingled with soot descended, and when the
engineer officer could see again, there was no
ship, and the boat was swinging in the whirl-
pool.
When the intermediate third officer came up
from the saloon, with a rush of passengers, he
went to his section of boats, starboard side.
THE "LUSITANIA" 79
One of his boats, which had been lowered to
the rail, was already full of passengers, and
some aliens were trying to get on board. The
officer disposed of the aliens and got the boat
into the water and away. Then he got another
boat away, full of passengers. He could have
gone with her, but he was too late. The ship
was sinking. He struggled up the steep slant
of the deck to the port side, and the water
caught him. He had just time to snatch the
life line of a boat, when he was sucked down
with the ship. When he came to the surface the
ship was gone.
The second-class waiter and library steward,
who had rushed on deck from his pantry, went
to the after collapsible boats and tried to get
them away. Failing, he cut away empty cases
and lockers and hove them overboard, so that
people could hang on to them. The ship sank
under him.
The leading fireman, coming up from below,
was carried by the crowd to the starboard side.
Here he found a boat, of which the forward falls
had slipped, hanging bows down. He helped to
haul her level, and then helped to put women
into her. As she was being lowered, a fall
slipped and all the passengers were thrown into
the sea. The fireman clung to a thwart of the
boat, which was drawn down with the ship.
The junior third officer, coming from the
bridge, went to his boat station on the deadly
port side, and with an able seaman lowered his
boat, which swung inboard and was useless.
Then the staff captain sent him back to the
bridge to tell the second officer to trim the ship
80 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
with the port tanks. The ship drawing a little
nearer level, the port boats were swung clear
of the rail. Then some passengers, meddling
with the guys, let them go, so that the boats
swung back again inboard. Amid this crowd
and confusion, the ship heeling over, boats and
collapsible boats beneath them, and passengers
all mixed up together, the junior officer strove
desperately until, the ship going down under
him, he slid down to starboard, where the rail
was nearly submerged, and so into the water,
and was sucked down with the vessel, and came
up again.
It seems that the two able seamen who had
come down from the crow's-nest were also
struggling to get the port side boats away.
One boat, partly filled with women, was being
lowered when the ship sank, and all were in the
water.
The able seaman who from the saloon saw the
torpedo coming and gave the alarm, being un-
able to get one of the starboard boats away,
joined the party under the command of the first
officer, and went away in his boat.
The master, on the bridge, put on a lifebelt,
waited till the ship sank under him, went down
with her and came up again. As the water
closed about him there rang in his ears "a long,
wailing, mournful, despairing, beseeching cry. ' '
So one of the passengers described the last
sound to The Times.
He was in the water for nearly three hours
when he was picked up by one of the ship's
boats.
THE "LUSITANIA" 81
What happened after the Lusitania had
plunged down bows first, her stern projecting
almost vertically from the sea, the living within
her being smashed against bulkheads by furni-
ture and then drowned?
Amid the whirl and undulation and breaking
waves of the sea were tossing men, women and
children, dead and alive, boats, cases, casks,
spars, wreckage of all kinds. Eight in the
whirlpool were the laden boats of the first officer
and of the junior third engineer, and the two
other boats lowered from the starboard side. It
seems that only these four were safely got away
filled with passengers. There were other boats
floating about, and some collapsible boats. Some
boats were capsized, some had people clinging
to them.
The first officer, whose boat, laden with about
eighty people, was tossing dangerously, ordered
the passengers to sit still, and by means of good
seamanship extricated his boat from danger.
With him were the first junior third engineer,
the able seaman from the saloon deck, and some
seamen and stewards. About 600 yards away
was another boat, apparently empty, to which
they pulled, and found in her three men who
had swum to her. The first officer transferred
to this boat the first junior third engineer, whom
he put in charge of her, a crew of seamen and
stewards and about thirty passengers. Boom
was thus made in both boats for more survivors.
The first officer returned to the scene of the
disaster and picked up as many people as the
boat would hold. Then he rowed to a fishing
82 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
smack, a distance of about five miles, and put
the passengers on board her. Then he rowed
all the way back again. He came upon a col-
lapsible boat, water-logged and helpless, in
which were thirty-five persons, took them on
board, and transhipped them into a trawler.
The trawler towed the first officer's boat back
once more to the scene of the wreck, and he
rescued ten persons, whom he transhipped to
another vessel. By this time there were various
vessels assembling ; and the first officer, finding
his crew exhausted by their hours of rowing a
heavy sea-boat, and their intense exertions,
went with them on board one of the rescuing
boats, and so was taken into Queenstown.
In the meantime the first junior third engi-
neer had been doing the like with his boat. He
baled her out, picked up about twenty-four per-
sons, and transferred them to a sailing trawler.
Then he took a number of women from a collap-
sible boat into his own boat, the sailing trawler
being fully laden. A steam trawler arrived,
and the first junior third engineer put his crew
and passengers on board her. The trawler sup-
plied fresh crews for the boat and the collapsi-
ble boat, took the boats in tow, and, having res-
cued more people, went to Queenstown, where
she arrived about half -past eight in the evening,
some six hours after the disaster.
So much for the work of the boats. We learn
something of what happened to the people cast
upon the sea from the brief accounts of sur-
vivors, and thus picture the field of waters,
strewn with wreckage and half -submerged boats
THE "LUSITANIA" 83
to which people are clinging, and dotted with
men and women still feebly swimming and
floating. . . . Here and there are trawlers and
other vessels, and boats whose crews are hauling
people over the side.
One of the able seamen who had been on
watch in the crow's-nest, and who had been
drawn down with the ship, came to the surface
and seized a floating block of wood. Then he
saw a woman struggling, pushed the wood over
to her, and swam away to a collapsible boat.
There were several people in her, one of the
ship's officers among them. The able seaman
climbed on board, and at once took his part in
wrestling with the crank boat, which kept turn-
ing over. Again and again they righted her,
but each time they were flung into the water
some of the survivors were drowned. After
a long time, those who remained, the sturdy
A.B. among them, were picked up by one of the
ship's boats.
The junior second engineer who, while trying
to launch one of the port side boats, had been
drawn down with the ship, came up to the sur-
face, clutched a lifebuoy and remained floating.
He floated for about two and a half hours, and
then he was picked up by one of the ship 's boats.
The second senior third engineer, having done
all that could be done below, came up on deck
to find it tilted to so steep an angle that he could
not keep his footing. He climbed over the rail
on the port side and walked down the sinking
hull into the water. He kept himself afloat for
about three hours. Then he was picked up by
84 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
one of the collapsible boats, which was partly
water-logged, and thence he was transferred to
a patrol boat.
The quartermaster who, after being told by
the master to save himself, took a lifebuoy and
was washed from the bridge, swam to a capsized
boat. Seated in the keel were ' ' two foreigners, ' '
who hauled the quartermaster alongside them.
The party was rescued by a trawler.
The intermediate third officer, having helped
to launch the starboard side boats, ran up the
deck to the port side as the ship went down, and
was carried down with her. He swam to a cap-
sized boat, to which twenty-five persons were
clinging. During the next four hours and more
twenty of the twenty-five dropped off and were
drowned. A trawler rescued the survivors.
The second-class waiter under whom the ship
went down while he was cutting away and casting
into the sea lockers and empty cases, also swam
to a capsized boat and was eventually picked up.
The leading fireman, carried down on the
starboard side with the boat he was trying to
clear and the ship, swam to a collapsible boat.
It was fortunately floating right side up; the
cover was still on it; and on the cover were a
coal-trimmer and a woman. They helped him
on board ; and the leading fireman, a person of
energy and resource, got to work, cut the cover
away, put the sides up, and then cruised about
picking people from the water. They were
presently rescued by a trawler.
The junior third officer, after his desperate
efforts to get away the port side boats, had gone
down with the ship. When he came up he
THE "LUSITANIA" 85
swam to a collapsible boat, which was partly
stove in. He climbed on board her and picked
up another man. The two, having managed
partly to raise the sides of the boat, went in
search of others. They rescued several people
from the water and from a capsized boat, during
two hours ' hard toil. Then they came upon three
persons hanging on to a bread-tank, but by that
time the collapsible boat was full. The indefat-
igable junior third officer found an empty boat,
transferred his passengers to her, then returned
and took in the castaways on the bread-tank
and picked out several more people floating on
life-belts. He kept the two boats in company,
and both were subsequently rescued.
The rescuing vessels came dropping into
Queenstown as the night fell, laden with the
living, the dying and the dead. During the next
two days the dead were carried through the
streets by stretcher-parties to the mortuaries.
Here men and women walked in fear, scanning
the dead faces, looking for those whom they
had lost. But our affair is not with the pas-
sengers, but with the men of the merchant serv-
ice, and how they discharged their duty.
It is right, however, that the remarks made
by the enemy should be remembered. Said the
Cologne Gazette: "The news will be received by
the German people with undisguised gratifica-
tion. . . ." Said the Frankfurter Zeitung: "A
German war vessel sunk the ship. It has done
its duty!" Said the Austrian Neue Freie
Presse: "We rejoice over this new success of
the German Navy. ..."
So much for "the freedom of the seas."
XI
The Castaways
The master was sitting in the saloon, peace-
fully writing. His ship, pitching heavily in the
swell, was the British steamer Coquet, laden
with salt, which she was carrying eastward
through the Mediterranean. It was eleven
o'clock in the forenoon of Tuesday, January
4th, 1916. The master heard the report of a
gun fired at sea. Eunning up to the bridge, he
heard a second report, and saw a projectile
speed across the bows and plunge into the water.
The third officer, on watch on the bridge, told
the master that the shots were fired from a
submarine on the port quarter, and also that
he had (he thought) sighted another submarine
on the port bow. Gazing across the field of
great blue hills rising and falling, at first the
master could see nothing else. Then he caught
side of the submarine astern, running on the
surface at a good speed, something over a mile
away. Another shell sang over the bridge, an-
other passed under the stern. The master, per-
ceiving that the attacking submarine was over-
86J
THE CASTAWAYS 87
hauling him, and having reason to suppose that
another submarine was approaching, ordered
the engines to be stopped, and the boats to be
made ready to get away, and ran up a hoist of
flags, signifying that the ship was stopped.
The submarine drew nearer, flying the signal
"Abandon ship." Then the master went down
to his cabin, took his confidential papers and
burned them in the galley fire. The officers and
men were lowering the boats in a hurry, amid
the babble in several languages of the crew,
who were of various nationalities.
The port side lifeboat, under the command of
the first officer, was got away first. The master,
taking his chronometer, sextant, chart and the
ship's papers, went away in the starboard life-
boat. Then the submarine opened fire again.
Shefiredeight shots, all of which missed the ship,
one severing the bridge signal halliards. The
heavy swell baulked the submarine gunners.
The submarine, drawing nearer the two boats,
ordered them to come alongside, a manoeuvre
highly dangerous with so great a sea running.
And in coming alongside both boats were flung
downwards upon the outer edge of the subma-
rine's hull, which was awash, their timbers were
started, and the water came in. The master was
ordered on board the submarine by her com-
manding officer, a short, square-built man of
forty or fifty with a fair moustache, speaking
good English. With him were several other offi-
cers, all dressed in leather clothing, and bearing
the Austrian crown in their caps. Eight or nine
of the crew, wearing ordinary bluejackets' rig,
88 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
were on deck. They were secured in case of acci-
dent by lanyards fastened to their belts and at-
tached at the other end to a wire jack-stay run-
ning fore and aft. The submarine, painted a blu-
ish slate-colour, was not of the latest size. She
bore signs of wear, carried two masts winged to
the deck and lying on it, and mounted one gun,
about nine feet long, forward of the conning tower.
When the two boats of the Coquet were diz-
zily rising and falling alongside the submarine,
the submarine commander ordered the master
to come on board. At the same time some of
the submarine's crew, armed with revolvers
and cutlasses, embarked in the two boats, which
were sent back to the ship, leaving the master
alone with his captors in the submarine.
The commander of the submarine proceeded
to improve the occasion by endeavouring to
elicit from the master his views on the subject
of the war. The British officer, by his account
of the matter, seems to have affected a dense
ignorance. But the ignorance of the submarine
commander was probably unfeigned, for he said :
"When you get back to London, Captain, tell
Mr. Grey that if he does not want his ships sunk,
to stop the war ; it is only being kept on by him
and the young men of England.' '
While the master was thus being entertained,
the two ship 's boats had regained the ship. The
men were given twenty minutes to collect their
gear, while the submarine's men set to looting
the vessel. When the men of the Coquet were
ready, they were ordered to return to the sub-
marine. The submarine's people loaded one of
THE CASTAWAYS 89
the small boats of the Coquet with their booty,
lowered her into the water, embarked in her, and
fastened two bombs on the ship's hull, under
water, abreast of the holds. Then they pulled
away for the submarine.
The master, stolidly parrying the questions of
the submarine commander, saw two bursts of
black smoke shroud the Coquet, and heard a
double explosion. Instantly the ship began to
settle by the head. He watched her sinking for
several minutes, then she plunged bows down,
lifted her stern high above the water, screamed
like a wounded animal, and vanished. For in
sinking, something caught her whistle lanyard.
(It is recorded by eye-witnesses that when
H.M.S. Sultan was wrecked in the Mediterra-
nean many years ago, she having been aban-
doned at the last minute, her ensign was lowered
to half-mast as she was in the act of sinking.)
The two lifeboats of the Coquet came along-
side the submarine, both leaking badly, so that
the men were baling hard. It was in these
damaged craft that the submarine commander
proposed to set thirty-one men adrift, many
miles from land, in mid-winter, in the dangerous
weather of the Mediterranean. The master re-
monstrated with the submarine officer, telling
him plainly he was committing murder. The
affair struck the submarine commander as hu-
morous. He laughed, airily promising to send
the next ship he stopped to look for the cast-
aways. His men then robbed the Coquet of
chronometers, sextants, charts and everything
else that took their fancy. The master was or-
90 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
dered into his boat; the two boats shoved off;
and the submarine got under way, steered
northward, and was presently lost to sight.
So ended chapter one.
Consider the situation of these thirty-one sea-
men, adrift in open boats, both of which were
overloaded and unseaworthy, some 300 miles
from the mainland, which they could not pos-
sibly reach in less than three days and three
nights, with .wind and weather favourable. The
chief hope was their rescue by a steamer.
There were seventeen in the master's boat,
fourteen in the mate 's boat. The master steered
south, hoisting sail and running before the wind,
a course which would take them across the
track of steamers. And sure enough, after sail-
ing all the afternoon, they sighted a ship. The
mate, whose boat was between the master's boat
and the distant ship, burned three red flares,
and the master burned one. So the castaways
stared in suspense at the prospect of their sal-
vation. But immediately it vanished, for the
steamer held on her course.
Then began one of those ordeals of the sea
which go beyond the landsman's imagination to
conceive. By this time the sea was running so
high that it was dangerous to sail. The master
lowered the sail, unshipped the mast, and put
out the drogue, or sea anchor, a conical bag of
sailcloth, which, towed with the open larger end
towards the boat, serves to take her way off
and keep her head to sea. But the sea-anchor
failed of its effect, and the master towed the
mast instead.
THE CASTAWAYS 91
The breaking waves, and the spray driven by
a pitiless north wind, soaked the castaways and
chilled them to the heart. The boat was con-
tinually filling with water, so that two men
mnst be kept baling without cessation.
The master, competent and imperturbable
from first to last, organised his party. The ra-
tions were fixed at two and a half biscuits and
two gills of water per man per day, and the
first ration was given that night. The men took
turns at the baling, two at a time. The steward,
an old man and ill, was exempted. So were the
four boys, who were paralysed with sea-sick-
ness, cold and fear. So passed the night of
January 4th, after the ship which might have
rescued the castaways had gone on her way un-
heeding. There is no record of what happened
in the chief officer's boat.
So, all the next day, January 5th : heavy sea,
bitter wind, thirst, cold, hunger, incessant bal-
ing and the boat never less than ankle-deep in
water, bale as they might. That day the car-
penter managed to caulk a part of the boat with
pieces of shirt. So, all the night of the 5th, and
the early morning of the 6th.
"When the darkness began to thin the master,
as his boat rose to the crest of a wave, made out
a dark object in the distance away to leeward,
and thought it might be a steamer proceeding
without lights. He burned a flare, which was
immediately answered by another, and pres-
ently, not a steamer but the first officer's boat
hove nearer. When the first officer came within
speaking distance, the master told him to keep
92 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
far apart, in order to increase the chance of
sighting a steamer. The first officer steered
away, and gradually drew further off during
the day. As darkness closed in on the third day,
those in the master's boat lost sight of the first
officer 's boat. She was never seen again.
That night, the night of January 6th-7th, the
sea rose higher, so that the master trailed a
leaking oil-bag to allay the breaking of the
waves. The night was worse than the day, be-
cause during the day there was a chance of
sun. But, save for an occasional watery ray,
there never was any sun.
The misery of the castaways was hourly in-
tensifying. The master and several others suf-
fered piercing pains in their joints. One of the
four boys, a little Italian mess-room waiter,
cried all night long in his sleep with the pain.
So passed the day of the 7th and the following
night.
On the morning of the 8th wind and sea went
down a little. The master reckoned that by
this time he had run right across the track of
steamers ; he perceived that it was impossible,
in that weather, to return upon his course ; and
he decided to steer south for the African coast.
At first they did better; then the wind backed
to west-north-west, making it difficult to keep
the course.
All that night, and all the day following (the
9th), the wind kept backing to the south-west,
the boat making more and more leeway. Still
the master sailed her indomitably. The allowance
of water had been slightly increased, because
THE CASTAWAYS 93
the continual driving of the salt spray gave the
men an intense thirst. But the water was run-
ning short. Towards evening, the master, un-
able any longer to steer south, was forced to
steer south-east. So he held desperately on till
midnight. And then he descried, looming
through the wintry dark, land.
Almost at the same moment, with that per-
versity which lends to fortune an expression of
blind malignity, the wind blew harder and
shifted into the south, dead ahead, and scourged
the water into the vicious short sea of the Med-
iterranean. The master, numbed and suffer-
ing, but unbeaten, reefed down and held on.
But so heavy were wind and sea that presently
he was compelled to lower the sail, unship the
mast, heave it overboard with a couple of oars
lashed to it, and tow it, to serve as a sea-an-
chor. In this near hopeless trim they pitched
and rolled, baling all the while, for three or
four hours. Then, as the light of day began
to glimmer over the desolate sea, the wind and
sea went down somewhat. The master shipped
the mast again, and again hoisted sail, and be-
gan to beat to windward. To and fro they
shoved, gaining perhaps a few yards when they
went about, the heavy boat making leeway for
all they could do, the wind pushing them off
the desired shore. So, all day. Beating up
against a head wind is a heavy, weary job
enough with a fresh crew, plenty of time and no
anxiety. What was it to these castaways, sliding
back and forth in sight of the mocking shore !
But they drew nearer in spite of all ; and as
94 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
the chance of salvation grew, the wind dropped,
nntil they could no longer keep steerage way in
the boat. Bnt by this time the shore was in
clear view, sloping down to a little bay, and, be-
yond, buildings rose upon the grey sky. The
master lowered sail, and ordered the men to row.
It was the last effort. The crew were so exhaust-
ed they could scarce get way on the boat, and all
the while two of them must keep baling, crouch-
ing under the moving oars as best they could.
They drew near the rocky shore, where a
heavy sea was running, and the boat was filled
with water, so that they must haul off and bale
her out. This happened twice. Then they got
the boat into shallow water, tumbled out of her,
and made her fast.
The master sent a couple of men to look for
water, made the boat secure for the night, and,
stiff and aching, his legs bending under him,
explored the haven to which he had so dread-
fully come. In the face of the low cliffs closing
in the bay were the dark mouths of caves.
Looking into these, the master perceived wet
and a lamentable stench. Ascending the cliffs,
he found what he had thought to be a village
was a heap of ancient ruins. The master de-
cided that it was best to sleep on the sand of
the bay, which, he hoped, might hold some
warmth of the day's sunlight.
But when they lay down in their wet clothes
the sand struck chill and wet. Ere they lay
down, they made a meal of limpets plucked from
the rocks, biscuit, and water from a well found
by the two men. They slept, the master, the
THE CASTAWAYS 95
second officer, and the two engineers keeping
watch by turns, as miserable a party as the
stars looked down upon that night. They had
lost their ship on the 4th ; it was now the 10th ;
six days and nights they had tossed and suf-
fered, starved, athirst and deadly cold ; and now
they were flung upon the edge of the desert, soli-
tary and savage.
So ended chapter two.
The master, upon whom hung the lives of all,
awoke at daybreak and, aching in every bone,
reflected upon the situation. It appeared to
him that the place where they were, being pro-
vided with water to drink and shellfish for food
and the materials for shelter, should serve as
a base until he could discover the nearest port
of civilisation.
Breakfast of shellfish, biscuits and water was
served out. The master instructed the second
officer to get the boat baled out, listed over and
repaired if possible, and to clean out one of the
caves and to light a fire in it. The wind had
dropped ; there was a flat calm ; and to get any-
where by rowing was merely impossible. So the
master, with three men, set forth to try to find
a man or a town. The country was all mud and
great stones and hills of loose sand, so that the
pioneers, whose legs were near paralysed, stum-
bling and falling, endured the most frightful
toil. It takes a deal to kill the British seaman.
After all they had suffered, with scarce a flicker
of life alight in them, these four started on a
long march. They struggled on in that savage
wilderness for some hours, and then, as though
96 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
appearing out of the earth, there stood before
them a lone Arab of great stature. The master
could make nothing of his talk; but he seemed
friendly, and together they retraced the weary
way to the camp.
When they arrived, one of the firemen, a
Greek, acted as interpreter. It appeared that
the tall Arab proposed that the party should em-
bark in their boat and let him pilot them to the
nearest port. But the second officer now re-
ported that the boat was damaged beyond re-
pair. The planks on either side the keel were
smashed to pieces, and the water came in faster
than it could be baled out. Then the helpful
Arab suggested that the master should march
with him across country to the nearest town.
But the master was done. He had been walking
for six or seven hours already. So he sent two
Greek firemen with the Arab. One of the Greeks
spoke Arabic, so that he could converse with
the guide ; the other knew Italian. As the cast-
aways were in Italian territory, the Greek could
explain the case. The Greeks were told to ask
for a boat to be sent to rescue the party. So
they departed with the Arab into the desert.
The fifteen men left behind began to reckon
upon the coming of that vessel in the morning.
A fire of driftwood was blazing in the cave ; the
people had dried their clothes; and, although
the floor was wet and hard, at least there was a
fire, and a part of their bodies was warmed.
Next morning, the 12th, after breakfast, some
of the men went away to wash in the muddy
water of a little river flowing into the sea near
THE CASTAWAYS 97
by. All kept an eager eye lifting to seaward,
looking out for the rescuing vessel. It was
nearly ten o 'clock, and the master was just go-
ing down to the river to wash, when there rang
the crack of rifles, and bullets sang about the
rocks.
Silhouetted against the sky on the top of a
little hill were the dancing and gesticulating fig-
ures of two Arabs. They were laughing and
shouting; and the master, conceiving the fusil-
lade to be no more than an expression of Bed-
ouin humour, wisely decided to take cover while
it lasted. Down by the water's edge was a line
of ruins, beneath which ran a dry ditch, closed
at one end by the sea. The master ordered the
men into the ditch, and with his customary fore-
thought saw that they took with them a bucket
of drinking water.
The two Arab sportsmen presently disap-
peared, but the master still kept his party un-
der cover. The two Arabs must have been
scouts, for after about half an hour fifteen Bed-
ouin, armed with rifles, leaped shouting upon
the bank of ruins, and burst into a torrent of
unintelligible speech. Two Arabs covered the
master with their rifles. He held up his hands,
showing that he was defenceless, whereupon one
of the marauders, standing within six feet of
the master, drew a bead on him. The master
ducked as the Arab pulled the trigger ; the bul-
let cut through the flesh of the master's bent
shoulders, and the shock of the blow knocked
him backwards. The back of his head struck
the sand, and he lost consciousness.
98 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
When he came to himself, there was no sound
save the groaning of a man in pain. The master,
getting dizzily to his feet, the blood flowing
from his wound, which hurt him exceedingly,
perceived the carpenter, writhing on the ground
near the waters edge. The man was horribly
wounded; he implored the master to drag him
away from the water. The master, in spite of
the pain of his wound, tried to move the man,
but he was too heavy.
In the sea close by, the body of the steward
was floating, face downwards. Further up the
trench lay the little Italian messroom boy, he
who had suffered so dreadfully in the boat. But
all was over for the little Italian, in this world.
The master, from where he was, could see
none other of his party. He kept his gaze to
seaward, passionately expecting, in this last ex-
tremity, the boat for which the two Greeks had
gone with the friendly Arab. Now and again
he gave the carpenter water to drink.
So he waited, in company with two dead and
one dying. And then at last he beheld the smoke
of a steamer, and a little after made out the
Italian colours she was flying. She rounded
into the bay; away came a boat crammed with
soldiers ; the master tottered out from his ditch,
and the first thing he saw was another sailor, a
coloured man, lying prone and bleeding on the
sand. He was still alive, and he told the master
that the Bedouin had shot and bayoneted him
and left him for dead, and that they had carried
away the rest of the crew.
The soldiers, landing, spread out in pursuit
THE CASTAWAYS 99
of the Arabs; but these savages were out of
sight. The Italian officer in command con-
veyed the master, the two wounded men and the
two dead on board the steamer. The carpenter
died while his wounds were being dressed.
There were then left alive the master and the
coloured seaman.
The Italians took the living and the dead to
their military post. The master and the sea-
man were placed in the military hospital. The
bodies of the two men and of the little Italian
were buried with full military honours.
Throughout, the master and the seaman re-
ceived the greatest kindness from the Italians.
The master recovered and returned to Eng-
land. He gave an admirable account of his ad-
ventures to the Imperial Merchant Service
Guild, which was published in The Times of
March 30th, 1916, and upon which the present
writer has largely drawn in framing his nar-
rative.
XII
Down in Five Minutes
The business of a gunner is to stick to his
gun. When the torpedo exploded below in the
stokehold, the Royal Marine Artilleryman in
charge of the gun on deck " brought the gun to
the * ready' and had a good look round." But
he could see nothing to shoot at; nothing but
the long, ragged swell of the Eastern Mediter-
ranean. The ship was heeling over ; it was im-
possible to train the gun ; so the Royal Marine,
with his brother gunner, ran to a boat which
was filled with passengers, and tried to lower
her. But the list of the ship, as she lay down on
her side, capsized the boat. The two Marines,
perhaps remarking that it was time to get out
and walk, slid into the water and swam about
until they were picked up by one of the ship's
boats. Thirty hours they were adrift ; and then
they were rescued by one of his Majesty's ships,
and were thence transferred to a battleship;
"Gunner and self remaining on board
H.M.S. awaiting further orders."
So ended the voyage of the two R.M.L.I. 's on
board the Royal Mail steamer Persia.
100
DOWN IN FIVE MINUTES 101
On Thursday, December 30th, 1916, she was
in the Mediterranean, proceeding eastwards,
carrying 503 persons, of whom 186 were pas-
sengers. The crew consisted of 81 Europeans
and 236 natives. At ten minutes past one, with-
out sign or warning, the Persia was torpedoed
and sank in four to five minutes.
The second officer, on watch on the bridge, did
indeed catch a glimpse of the wake of a torpedo,
but before he could lay hand on the wheel to put
the helm over, came the explosion. The tor-
pedo struck the ship on the port side, burst in
the stokehold, exploded a boiler, killed the en-
gine-room staff, and blew a large hole in the
hurricane deck. Immediately the ship began to
lie down on her port side.
She was thus rapidly heeling over when the
second officer, trying to sound the emergency
signal on the whistle, found all the steam had
gone. He then perceived the situation, which
was, in brief, that the ship was sinking; that
while she was sinking she was still moving for-
ward with her own impetus; that her motion
would make the operation of lowering boats dif-
ficult and dangerous; but that as there was no
steam she could not be stopped.
The second officer realised these things as he
sprang down to the lower bridge, where was the
master. The master ordered him to get the
boats away. The second officer dashed to the
two boats on the poop. During the minute or
two which had elapsed since the explosion, these
were already loaded with women and children
and a few of the crew. The second officer, work-
102 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
ing with furious energy, got both boats low-
ered. One floated clear. The other, as the ship
continued to lean over, was actually pressed
down by the davits, with the weight of the ship
behind them. There was no more to be done
with it. By this time the deck was nearly per-
pendicular. The second officer struggled to two
boats secured inboard, and swiftly loosened the
gripes. Then he scrambled up to the starboard
side, and tried to lower a boat. As in the case
of the Lusitania, the boat swung inboard. All
these things did the second officer in four or
five minutes. Then the ship sank under him.
The second officer swam to a boat and climbed
in. She was one of the inboard boats he had
cast loose. The second officer took to the oars
and picked people out of the water.
The chief officer was in his cabin when he felt
the impact of a heavy blow upon the ship, and
the next moment, with a great sound, everything
leaped from the bulkheads and fell about his
ears. One moment he stood dazed ; the next he
caught up a lifebelt and an axe, and ran up to
the tilting boat deck shouting "Port boats."
He saw the second officer getting away the boats
on the poop ; perceived that the ship was sinking
so rapidly that there would be no time to load
the boats; and decided to get them away in
order to employ them afterwards in saving peo-
ple in the water. Under his orders the boats
were flung loose, the chief officer using his axe.
Then, like the second officer, he slid into the
water and swam. He was picked up by a boat
which already contained over thirty persons.
DOWN IN FIVE MINUTES 103
Then he rescued more people, until his boat was
so overloaded that he transferred several per-
sons to the second officer 's boat.
No one seems to know what became of the
master, except that he went down with his
ship.
What of the passengers, among whom were
women, children and soldiers 1
One of the passengers, a civil servant, made
an illuminating statement. He was travelling
with a friend, and it seems that both men had
in mind the possibility of submarine attack.
The evening before the disaster the two men
stood looking up at the boat to which they were
allotted in case of emergency, slung to its dav-
its above them, thoughtfully contemplating its
attachments, and they remarked to each other
that one of the securing pins was rusted into
its socket.
Next day the civil servant was in his cabin,
washing his hands before going to lunch, when
there came the explosion. A confusing sense of
stress and hurry instantly took him, but he
acted coolly enough. He snatched his lifebelt,
and quitted his cabin to go on deck. There was
a lady standing motionless. He spoke to her,
but she did not answer. He forced his lifebelt
upon her, and ran back to his cabin to fetch his
life-saving jacket. On his way up to the deck
he received an impression of women and chil-
dren huddled together in the corridors, and on
the companion ladders, and some were moaning
or crying out. Then there emerged from the
hurried confusion another motionless figure of
104 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
a lady, a Frenchwoman. The civil servant
seized her, and somehow dragged her up the
stairs. On deck someone took the lifebelt from
her nerveless hand, put it about her, and pushed
her into the water, whence she was afterwards
rescued. The civil servant remembers seeing a
steward carrying two babies. Coming to his
boat on the port side, the civil servant found his
friend in her, with another man, the carpenter
and a seaman. Two aft and two forward, they
were trying to lower the boat. The rusted pin
had jammed. The friend cried out for an axe.
The civil servant, climbing into the boat, caught
up a broken oar and passed it to his friend, who
knocked out the pin with it.
Then the boat, being on the port side, which
was sinking into the water, swung violently out-
board and back again, striking the ship's side,
and pitching one man into the sea.
At the same time the next boat was being
lowered, full of people, when the falls parted at
one end, and the boat dropped perpendicular to
the water, so that all the people were spilt into
the sea. The falls parted at the other end of
the boat, which then dropped on a level keel
into the water, whence people struggled into
her. While they were climbing in, another boat
descended on the top of them, and thence into
the water, so that people were crushed between
the two boats.
The civil servant's boat was cast loose, and
the painter cut with a pocket knife, and then,
as the boat was sucked right across the ship's
stern, the ship went down. Those in the boat
DOWN IN FIVE MINUTES 105
sat helpless, their craft whirling in the smooth
swell of the suction.
They got out the oars and picked people from
the water, until there were nearly fifty on hoard,
five of whom were women. The civil servant
remembers seeing a clergyman of his acquaint-
ance, swimming steadily, and appearing per-
fectly composed. They were unable to reach
him. He also saw two capsized boats, on one
of which were two Lascars, and on the other
several Lascars.
The chief officer's boat and the second offi-
cer's boat joined company with the boat in which
was the civil servant, and also with a fourth
boat, which was also filled with survivors, and
the chief officer took command of the flotilla.
He ordered the boats to sail or row back to the
place of the wreck, in order to look for more
survivors. But the wind was against them;
they could make no way; and they were blown
in the opposite direction.
It seems that two or three small vessels were
sighted during the afternoon. At nightfall the
chief officer anchored. After dark the castaways
saw the lights of a steamer and burned flares,
but the steamer went on. The next morning
they saw a large vessel, and the second officer
went away under sail to cross her course, but
the ship, doubtless suspecting a trick of an en-
emy submarine, altered course and went on.
The people in the boats tossed and drifted in
the sun and the heavy weather all that day.
For food they had biscuits and for drink water.
That night they again saw the lights of a ship
106 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
and again burned flares. They saw the green
light and then the red light glowing in a line,
and knew that she was heading towards them.
The lack of an officer to command the civil
servant's boat nearly resulted in the loss of all
on board, for as the ship drew nearer the passen-
gers all stood up, and the boat,turningbroadside
to the swell, was in imminent danger of capsizing.
The rescuing ship was one of his Majesty's
destroyers.
In the fifth boat, which was separated from
the others, was Lord Montagu of Beaulieu, who
contributed an interesting account of his adven-
tures to The Times of January 19th, 1916.
Lord Montagu went down with his ship, came
up, swam to a capsized boat and climbed on the
keel. Clinging to the boat were many native
seamen and a few Europeans. Several presently
dropped off and sank. The boat righted herself
on a wave, and the survivors climbed into her.
She was badly damaged; her bows were split,
there was a hole in her bottom, her air-tanks
were broken ; and the men sat with the water to
their knees. Every now and then she capsized in
the swell. Several more of the native crew died
from exhaustion. There was no water, nor any
food except a few spoiled biscuits; and these
were not discovered until the castaways had
been thirty hours without sustenance.
At night Lord Montagu saw the ship which
the other boats' crews saw, and also the ship
they sighted next morning. During the rest of
the day nothing appeared; and by the evening
Lord Montagu told his friend that there was
DOWN IN FIVE MINUTES 107
no hope, and his friend agreed. Lord Montagu
records that he was oppressed by an immense
drowsiness, which he was only just able to re-
sist. But he fought against the sleep which,
he believed, was death, because he intended to
hold out to the last.
About eight o'clock they saw a light, which
they took at first to be a star. Then they
descried the port and starboard lamps of a
steamer, and all shouted together. The ship
stopped, drew on again, there came a hail from
her bridge, and her whistle was blown. When
the officers of the vessel perceived the plight of
the men in the boat, which was now "like a
crushed eggshell, ' ' they brought the ship along-
side, rove bowlines through a purchase, and
hoisted the helpless castaways on board. So
they were saved by the men of the merchant
service.
Of the 503 persons on board, 334 were lost,
and 169 were saved. Among the lost were 121
passengers, 166 native crew, 47 European crew.
Among the saved were 65 passengers, 70 native
crew, 34 European crew; and their salvation
was due in the first instance to the promptitude,
skill and resource of the ship's officers, who had
only four minutes in which to do everything.
xin
The Raider
i
Gathering Them In
This is the story of some of the British sea-
men captured by the German commerce-de-
stroyer Moewe, whose other name was Ponga,
commanded by Count Dohna. That officer would
seem to have studied the methods and the code
of the late Captain Eaphael Semmes of the Ala-
bama, the daring and punctilious privateersman
who, in the American Civil War, inherited the
traditions of the war of 1812 and of the Na-
poleonic guerre de course preceding that cam-
paign. As for the British seamen, I do but tell
their own story. Count Dohna had the upper
hand — there is no denying it; and the British
masters had to swallow their gruel. Eesistance
was useless; even so, the master of the Clan
Mactavish fought, as you shall hear.
On Tuesday, January 11th, 1916, the cargo-
boat Corbridge was steaming nine knots in the
North Atlantic in fine, clear weather. About
108
THE RAIDER 109
two o'clock in the afternoon the master sighted
a vessel coming np astern, abont five miles
away. She was flying the red ensign and there
was nothing remarkable about her. The master
observed that she was gradually overhauling
the Corbridge; then, at a quarter to four, he no-
ticed that the stranger suddenly altered her
course, steering towards another vessel, which
was steaming in the opposite direction, some
three miles away on the port bow. By this
time the wind had freshened, and the sea was
getting up, and now and again a rain-squall
blotted out the two ships. As the squall blew
away the master of the Corbridge saw the flash
of guns and heard their reports, and perceived
that the vessel first sighted was firing upon the
steamer coming towards her.
The master then understood that the strange
vessel which had turned away from him was a
German. There was nothing to do but to hold on
his course with all speed, gaining what start he
could while the enemy was engaged with the
other ship. It was then four o'clock; the dusk was
gathering; and if he could keep on for another
hour, when it would be dark, he might escape.
What was happening on board the ship at-
tacked? She was the Farringford. When her
master sighted the stranger at a quarter to
four the stranger was flying the signal "What
ship is that?" The master of the Farringford
made no reply. Then the stranger hoisted
"Stop. Abandon ship." The master of the
Farringford, perceiving that the stranger, now
within a quarter of a mile, was training guns
110 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
upon the Farringford, stopped. Up went the
German ensign, and there came a hail, "Aban-
don ship at once."
The master of the Farringford ordered the
boats to be got away, secured his confidential
papers, weighted them with a lead sinker, and
hove them overboard. The crew had no time to
collect their effects. They hurried into the
boats, one able seaman breaking his leg in the
process. There were twenty-two British and
one Norwegian ; and, although they were under
the guns of the German, they were perfectly
cool and steady. The master left his ship last ;
and as the boats pulled clear the Germans
opened fire upon her.
The master was taken up on the bridge 6f the
German. By this time the two ships were no
more than a hundred yards apart; five or six
shots had been fired, and the master witnessed
the discharge of a torpedo. It broke surface,
swerved to the right, and passed about thirty
feet ahead of the Farringford. But she was
already sinking by the stern when the master
was ordered below.
The injured seaman had been taken to the
sick bay, and the master found the rest of the
crew on the between-deck, under an armed guard.
But before he went below, and afterwards,
when he was allowed on deck, the master of the
Farringford took careful note of the German
ship. His observations and the observations of
other British captains, may here be given.
The vessel was painted black. Apparently
her original colour was white, as one of the mas-
THE RAIDER 111
ters noticed that there was a streak of white at
the water-line. The master of the Farringford
thought the original colour was slate. Showing
through the final coat of paint were the blue and
yellow stripes of the Swedish colours, which had
apparently been blazoned for purposes of disguise.
The name on the seamen's cap-ribbons were of
various vessels, the name Moewe being carriedby
the greater number. In the chart-house, under the
displacement scale, the name Pong a was printed.
All the masters refer to the ship as The Raider.
The Raider was an armed merchant ship,
cunningly altered at once to serve and to con-
ceal her purpose. Her bulwarks were raised to
the height of the poop deckhouse, and the pas-
sage between the bulwarks and the deckhouse on
either side was decked over, and closed by
doors, from which 18-inch-gauge tram-lines ran
to the torpedo-tubes abaft the foremast. On the
deck above the poop, where the hand steering
wheel would be, was a gun cased in canvas. In
front of it was a dummy steering wheel. So
far as can be made out from the reports, the
real wheel was fixed in the roof of the deck-
house, in the space between the roof and the
new deck, in which a hatch opened, through
which appeared the helmsman's head.
High bulwarks closed in the upper deck, and
in these hinged flaps or ports of sheet-iron con-
cealed the upper deck guns. When the guns
were manned, the ports dropped outwards.
There were two guns under the forecastle,
supposed to be 4.1-inch; two larger guns, one
on either side, under the break of the forecastle ;
112 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
one gun, also supposed to be a 4.1-inch, on the
poop, as already described, and, so far as could
be discovered, two guns under the poop. Total,
seven guns. Abaft the foremast, between fore-
mast and bridge, were two 18-inch torpedo-
tubes. Two torpedoes in boxes were placed be-
tween number 1 and number 2 hatches. The
after-end of the hatches had been taken out, the
coamings raised to three feet, and in this shel-
ter were stowed five more torpedoes in cases.
The use of the tram-lines was not discovered ;
but it was surmised that they were part of the
mine-dropping gear, the mines being stowed
under the poop.
There were two derricks, and two derricks on
the mainmast. There was a wireless equipment.
The Raider was fitted with a single screw, and
her extreme speed was estimated at 14 — 15
knots. The crew was estimated to number
something under 300 men.
The personal appearance (though not the
manners) of the commander of this remarkable
vessel escapes us.
The first officer, Lieutenant Robert Kohlen,
is described in true seaman's fashion as 5 feet
8 inches, fair, long face, twenty-eight years of
age, clean shaven, refined. Another officer, as
stout, twenty-eight years of age, clean shaven,
flushed countenance.
Another officer, one Kohl, known as "the
technical officer,' ' or, quaintly, as the "explo-
sives expert," seems to have been a talker.
He boasted that he had invented the mine which
blew up H.M.S. King Edward VII.
THE RAIDER US
Lieutenant Berg, described as a most cour-
teous officer, sharp-featured, with a small black
moustache, was subsequently placed in com-
mand of the prize crew in the Appam.
There seem to have been four lieutenants and
a doctor besides the captain and first officer.
Officers and men wore German naval uniform.
Such was the ship, such were the officers, as
observed by various British masters and men
under painful conditions.
While the master and the crew of the Far-
ringford were sitting under the armed guard
on the 'tween-decks of the Raider, the Corbridge
was desperately piling on coal in the hope of
escaping a like catastrophe, or, for aught her
people knew, worse. Within half an hour after
she had sighted the Far ring ford and saw the
Raider's attack, the Corbridge was spurred by
a shot, whistling over her funnel. During the
next three-quarters of an hour projectiles ar-
rived at intervals, the Raider, which was over-
hauling her quarry, being then three or four
miles astern. At ten minutes past five, the mas-
ter of the Corbridge stopped. By this time it
was dark, and it was impossible to discern what
colours the strange vessel was flying.
But the master of the Corbridge had been un-
der the stranger's fire; he had seen her attack,
and conjectured that she had sunk another ves-
sel; and he knew that the stranger's speed was
superior to his own. It was clear, therefore,
that the stranger was an armed German cruiser ;
that she could sink the Corbridge at anything
up to five miles' range; and that she could
114. THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
close on the Corbridge at will. He could not
fight the German, not having the wherewithal,
nor could he perceive any reasonable chance of
escape. He was confronted with the inevi-
table. So he stopped and accepted it with the
seaman's stoicism.
A signal lamp winked a question upon the
dark: "What ship?" The master signalled
' ' Corbridge. ' ' Then the stranger flashed • * Ger-
man cruiser. Abandon ship immediately. ' '
The master made his preparations according-
ly. Half an hour later a boat drew alongside, and
a German officer with an armed party climbed on
board. The officer took the ship's papers and
the master's chronometer, for which he kindly
gave the master a receipt, and ordered him to
go on board the German ship, with his crew.
The ship's company of the Corbridge num-
bered twenty-six; of which thirteen were Brit-
ish, two were naturalised British, three were
Finns, four were Greeks, three were Scandina-
vians, and one was a Spaniard.
The German officer seems to have called for
volunteers to serve under him, for eight of the
foreign seamen agreed to sign on for two pounds
a month more than they had been receiving from
the owners of the Corbridge. The four Greeks,
the three Scandinavians, and the Spaniard re-
mained in the Corbridge in the German service,
to work the ship with the German prize crew.
The master, and eighteen of the crew, went on
board the Raider, taking such personal effects
as they could carry. The German officer sent
some of the Corbridge' 's live stock to the Raider.
THE RAIDER 115
To the master of the Farringford, then, sitting
on the dark 'tween-decks with his crew, entered
the master of the Corbridge with his men. What
they said to one another is not recorded. Prob-
ably "Up against it, then?" and probably they
proceeded to exchange narratives.
At some period of the sojourn of the master
of the Corbridge in the Raider, the pleasant offi-
cer called the Explosives Expert showed to the
master a box containing bombs, possibly hand-
grenades, which, said the Explosives Expert,
would be used were any attempt made by the
captives to take the Raider.
For the time being the Raider and the Cor-
bridge proceeded in company. On that Tues-
day, January 11th, 1916, the Raider thus set
two ships to her score.
On the following day, Wednesday, at five
o'clock in the afternoon, the Corbridge parted
company.
The captives were allowed to come on deck
for exercise for two hours in the morning and
two hours in the afternoon, unless another ves-
sel was sighted, when they were kept below.
Each man had mattress and blankets. For
breakfast, they had brown bread and butter
and tea; for lunch, soup; for tea, more brown
bread and butter and tea; for supper, noth-
ing. The bread is said to have been good, other
victuals not so good, but sufficient. They were
furnished with tin plates, spoons and cups.
On Thursday, January 13th, the second day
after the taking of the Corbridge and Farring-
fordy about noon, the captives heard the report
116 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
of a gun overhead. Was another hapless Brit-
ish ship being held up? They waited. Pres-
ently they heard three distant blasts of a steam
whistle, and after an interval down to the
'twe en-decks came twenty men from the
Dromonby. A little later, down came the master.
The master told his story. It was the usual
story. He was steaming at eight knots when he
sighted a ship off the starboard bow. She was
flying no colours. She hoisted the signal ' ' What
ship?" To which the Dromonby replied, giving
her name. Then, "Stop and abandon ship."
Up went the German ensign, and a shot cried
over the Dromonby. The report of the gun
fetched the master out of his cabin to the
bridge, whence he beheld an armed ship close to.
The master put the Dromonby astern and blew
three blasts on the whistle. The master ordered
the crew into the boats, burned his confidential
papers, and stood by his ship. A boarding
party from the Raider came on board and
searched the ship. They were looking for a
gun, for which the ship was fitted, but which was
not there. The Germans were very anxious
about that gun. They opened the sea-cocks,
placed three bombs in the ship's vitals, and re-
turned to the Raider, carrying the master with
them.
While he was relating these matters to his
fellow-prisoners, there came the muffled sound
of three distant explosions, and the crack of
three gunshots fired overhead. And that was
the end of the Dromonby.
Our friend the Explosives Expert afterwards
THE RAIDER 117
told the master of the Dromoriby that the
Raider carried six-inch guns. But the master's
observation of the ammunition did not confirm
the statement of the Explosives Expert.
That Thursday was a busy day for the Raider.
She was picking ships from the Atlantic trade
route from morn to night.
At about five in the afternoon the prisoners
below heard a clatter and a running to and fro
on deck, and the splash of boats going away.
Another ship? They waited and listened, until
down came the master and the ship's company
of the Author, eleven British and forty-seven
Lascars.
The master of the Author told his story. It
was the same in substance as the others. But
he mentioned that the German officer in com-
mand of the boarding party returned to the
master his chronometer, saying that he did not
desire personal property. In respecting pri-
vate property the German officer followed the
code of Captain Raphael Semmes; but in re-
spect of the chronometer, there was a difference,
for Semmes used to collect chronometers. The
Alabama was stocked with them. The German
officer kept a bull-dog which was a passenger
in the Author, but the bull-dog was really cargo.
He also took food, live-stock, the ship's instru-
ments, and the boats. The Raider then sank
the Author. The forty-seven Lascars were
berthed aft, put to work, and were ultimately
retained by the Raider.
The master of the Author came on board the
Raider about five o'clock on that Thursday,
118 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
joining the mess of the masters of the Farring-
ford, Corbridge, and Dromoriby. Two hours
later the master of the Trader was added to the
party. He saw his ship sunk while he was in
his boat, pulling across to the Raider. The
Trader was laden with sugar. Her crew con-
sisted of twenty-two British, six Swedes, one
Norwegian, one Russian, one Malay and one
American; all came on board the Raider, and
all lacked their personal effects, which they had
no time to collect.
On the following day, Friday, January 14th,
1916, nothing happened.
On Saturday, 15th January, the game began
early, with the arrival on board at seven in the
morning of the master and ship's company of
the Ariadne. The Raider was becoming
crowded, having on board by this time the offi-
cers and men of the Farringford, Corbridge,
Dromonby, Trader and Ariadne, like a new
house-that-Jack-built. But relief was on its
way, as the German officers (according to their
own statement) knew.
ii
The Taking of the " Appam"
On that Saturday the Appam, homeward-
bound, was steering to pass 100 miles west of
Cape Finisterre. She was an Elder Dempster
liner of 4,761 tons net, carrying a crew number-
ing about 144, and 158 passengers, including
naval and military officers, and ladies, and some
German prisoners. She also carried bullion to
THE RAIDER 119
the value of £36,000. She was fitted with wire-
less and mounted a gun.
At about half-past two in the afternoon the
second officer, who was on watch, perceiving a
cargo-boat of unusual appearance approaching,
altered course to turn away from her. The
stranger immediately made a signal ordering
the Appam to stop, and her wireless operator
to cease sending. The master, going on the
bridge, and perceiving the stranger to hoist the
German ensign, obeyed. The Eaider fired a
shot across the bows of the Appam and then
across her stern, approached, and lowered
a boat with an officer and armed crew on board.
She was within 200 yards of the Appam, her
shutters dropped and her guns visible. The
master described this spectacle as "a great
shock" to him, as no doubt it was.
The officer and men boarded the Appam, to
the intense interest of the passengers. Lieuten-
ant Berg, the German officer in command, went
up on the bridge and conversed with the mas-
ter. The lieutenant courteously requested all
information concerning the ship; ordered the
purser to bring to him the ship's papers, put
the master under arrest, and told him to pack
his things and repair aboard the Raider, tak-
ing with him the officers and the deck hands.
Thus did the master join his colleagues in the
Raider that Saturday afternoon.
In the meantime a naval seaman on board the
Appam called for volunteers, and led them to
dismantle the gun. They managed to dislocate
120 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
part of the gear when the Germans stopped
them, and hove the gun overboard.
The women on board, perceiving the Raider,
put on life-belts, a precaution which pained
Lieutenant Berg, who addressed them with ut-
most politeness.
"It hurts me," said Lieutenant Berg, "to see
you ladies in these things. Please take them
off. You will be quite safe. We are not going
to sink a ship with women on board. ' '
That chivalrous officer had indeed other uses
for the Appam, which was to serve as escort to
the Raider. Lieutenant Berg proceeded to
make his arrangements. He took from arrest
the German prisoners on board, armed them,
and, to their deep disgust, put them on guard
duty. He presented to the civilian passengers
of military age a form of declaration that they
would not take up arms against Germany or her
Allies during the war, and requested them to
sign it. One man, who refused, was sent on
board the Raider. The bullion on board was
transferred to the Raider. The naval and mili-
tary passengers on board the Appam, the naval
ratings, and Sir Edward Merewether, ex-Gov-
ernor of Sierra Leone, were transferred to the
Raider.
The master of the Appam, coming on board
the Raider, remarked that her crew were paint-
ing her upper works white, and that her hull
was black, the paint being still wet. The cap-
tain of the Raider informed the master that if
the Appam had attempted to escape or to use
her wireless, she would have been sunk. Then
THE RAIDER 121
the master was sent below, where he found his
fellow captains, crowded together in the foul
and airless 'tween-decks.
For the time being the Appam, in charge of
Lieutenant Berg and a prize crew, remained in
company with the Raider.
The next day, Sunday, January 16th, in the
late afternoon, the master and some of the
other prisoners in the Raider were on deck,
when they perceived smoke on the horizon.
They were promptly ordered below. The
Raider increased her speed. The ship sighted
was the famous Clan Mactavish.
in
The Fight of the "Clem Mactavish"
The Raider was keeping the Appam in com-
pany, under the command of Lieutenant Berg
with a prize crew, so that in attack both ships
could be employed. The Germans had dis-
mounted the gun on board the Appam, but the
prize crew were armed; and, for all that the
ship attacked could tell, both ships carried guns.
When, for instance, the Clan Mactavish was at-
tacked, the master had to reckon with the pos-
sibility of the second ship in sight also opening
fire, a circumstance which should be remem-
bered.
Thus, at half -past four on that fine Sunday
afternoon, the chief officer of the Clan Mactav-
ish sighted two steamers some distance away on
the port side. Both were steering the same
course. About half an hour later the chief offi-
122 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
cer noticed that one ship altered course
towards him, while the other made as if to pass
astern of him, though, as he subsequently dis-
covered, her real intention was to head him off.
At half -past five the third officer came on the
bridge, and the chief officer pointed out to him
the two steamers, among others which were
then in sight. Twenty minutes later, when it
was falling dusk, as one of the suspicious ves-
sels was rapidly closing the Clan Mactavish,
she called up the Clan Mactavish by a Morse
lamp, and was answered. Then the stranger
signalled "What ship is that!"
At this point the chief officer reported the
situation to the master, who ordered that no
reply should be made. The stranger repeated
her question. The master then signalled back
i i Who are you 1 ' ' to which the stranger replied,
"Author, of Liverpool" (that vessel had been
sent to the bottom on the preceding Thursday).
The master in return signalled "Clan Mactav-
ish/' Then the stranger, who by this time
was abaft the beam of the Clan Mactavish,
signalled "Stop at once. We are a German
cruiser. Don't use wireless."
The master of the Clan Mactavish acted in-
stantly. He ordered the engine-room staff to
give all possible speed and the wireless opera-
tor to send out the ship's call letters and her
position. Then he ran to look out the code
signals he wanted.
The Eaider dropped her gun-screens and
opened fire at a range of about 300 yards. The
second shot entered the steward's room on the
THE RAIDER 123
port side, bursting on contact and blowing to
pieces the steward's room and the second offi-
cer's room.
At this moment the master was busy looking
out signals; the firemen below were piling on
coal; the wireless operator was sending con-
tinuously; the gunner was standing by the
bridge and asking for orders, while the Raider
went on firing. The chief officer went to the
master, who told him to reply to the enemy,
whereupon the gunner opened fire upon her,
the apprentice running to and fro with ammu-
nition.
It was a short action and a sharp. The Raider
got in eleven rounds, the Clan Mactavish four or
five. The Clan Mactavish was hit on the fore-
deck beside the windlass, then on the water-line.
Her engines stopped. Then a shell entered the
engine-room skylight, smashed the steering-
engine, killed fifteen coloured firemen and
wounded four, and filled the engine-room with
scalding steam. The Clan Mactavish was done.
She signalled, but apparently the Raider failed
to read the lamp, for the Raider fired another
round. Then the Raider ceased fire and sig-
nalled that she was sending a boat.
Presently two German officers with an armed
crew of seven men came on board. One of the
officers asked the master the characteristically
German question why he fired, to which the
master replied, to defend himself.
The German officers then lined up the Euro-
peans on deck, and ordered the native comple-
124* THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
ment into the boats. There stood the officers
and men of the Clan Mactavish, amid the
splinters and wreckage and blood, the steam
still hissing into the dark from the engine-room,
and contemplated their armed guard and the
proceedings of their captors. The German offi-
cers told the people of the Clan Mactavish that
if they moved they would be shot. So they
stood still, while the Germans destroyed the
gun, and sent the ship's carpenter to sound the
well. At first there was no water, but a little
after it was coming in, probably through the
hole in the water-line.
The people of the Clan Mactavish were or-
dered into the boats, two of which were directed
to go to the Raider and two to the Appam. The
master and the two gunners went to the Raider,
where they were treated as prisoners of war ; a
correct procedure, inasmuch as in resisting cap-
ture they became combatants.
The Clan Mactavish was sunk, probably by
bombs. The explosion occurred about 8.30.
She sank slowly. The third officer, half an hour
later, saw the last of his ship. Her decks were
awash, and the red ensign was flying.
In the meantime the British prisoners on
board the Raider, huddled on the 'tween-deck,
hearkened to the guns, not without emotion.
It occurred to them that if the Raider's antag-
onist was a ship of war, they might expect the
Raider to go down with them. In any case, at
any moment a shell might burst on the 'tween-
decks. But it was speedily evident that the
THE RAIDER 125
guns of the Eaider were overpowering the other
vessel.
And in due time the officers and men of the
Clan Mactavish joined the party. The third
engineer was slightly wounded.
Did the Clan Mactavish hit the Raider!
Probably she did. The Germans were naturally
reticent on the subject. But the Raider stopped
at midnight for a time, and the coolies among
the prisoners aboard, who had been set to work,
told the chief officer of the Clan Mactavish that
two Germans were then buried. Lieutenant
Berg seems to have told an American news-
paper that one German was killed and two were
wounded.
Admiral Sir John Jellicoe, who was then in
command of the Grand Fleet, when the first
news of the fight came to him, telegraphed to
the owners of the Clan Mactavish:
"The magnificent fight shown by the Clan
Mactavish fills us in the Grand Fleet with ad-
miration. We sympathise deeply with those who
have lost relatives as a result of the action."
The master of the Clan Mactavish did not
know how many guns the Raider mounted.
What he did know was that he was heavily out-
matched, and that he might also be attacked
by the second ship. But at close range, even
with his light gun, he may have reckoned that
he had a sporting chance. But very likely he
did not reckon at all, but simply resolved not to
be taken without a fight. When he comes back
from Germany, where he is a prisoner of war,
he may tell us.
126 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
IV
The " Appam" as Prize
On the morning of the day following the
sinking of the Clan Mactavish, Monday, Janu-
ary 17th, 1916, the Raider and the Appam were
proceeding westwards at full speed. In the
afternoon the prisoners on board the Raider,
excepting the people of the Clan Mactavish,
received orders to prepare to leave the ship.
The masters of the Corbridge, Far ring ford,
Dromoriby, Author, Trader, Appam and Ari-
adne were summoned to the presence of the cap-
tain of the Raider, Count Donna, who received
them in the chart-room. That officer informed
the captives of his bow and spear that they were
to be transhipped to the Appam, Count Dohna
then read to them the instructions he had given
to Lieutenant Berg, in command of the Appam,
These were to the effect that if the prisoners
made the slightest attempt at riot or mutiny,
the Appam would instantly be blown up; that
if an enemy (Allied) cruiser attacked the Ap-
pam the prisoners, if time allowed, would be
put into boats, when the ship would be de-
stroyed ; for, said the Count, she was in charge
of men who would sacrifice their lives rather
than she should be retaken. All being well, the
Count added, the masters and crews would be
taken to a safe port. Having made an end of his
plain statement, Count Dohna shook hands all
round and signified that the audience was over.
At four o'clock that afternoon the masters
and men of the seven vessels were sent across
THE RAIDER 127
to the Appam. With them were a part of the
crew of the Clan Mactavish, the passenger, "a
Birmingham man," who had refused to sign the
declaration of neutrality, and Sir Edward Mere-
wether. The transhipment was finished by 6.30.
The prisoners on board the Appam were
guarded by the German ex-prisoners. They
were allowed the run of the ship below the boat-
deck, and were classified as first, second and
third-class passengers, and had "no complaints,
but not too much to eat. ' ' It was no doubt the
impossibility of feeding so large a number, and
the inconvenience of keeping them on board a
fighting ship, that decided the commander of
the Raider to ship them off in the Appam to a
neutral port. In so doing he acted with human-
ity, for he must have known that he was risking
the internment of his prize when she touched
America. With German forethought and pre-
cision the Appam was dispatched at the moment
when the amount of rations left would just en-
able her to reach port. One of the masters re-
ported that when they fetched up, there was
very little left, but ' ' no one looked any the worse
for it."
The engineer on board the Appam was or-
dered to keep nine knots. If smoke was sighted,
the Appam turned away from it to avoid pur-
suit and increased her speed. Her wireless
operator was constantly at work. In case of
emergency a bomb was placed in the engine-
room in charge of two sentries.
For twenty-four hours the Appam kept in
128 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
company with the Raider, which then dis-
appeared.
On February 1st, 1916, after a fortnight's
voyage, the Appam arrived in Hampton Roads,
U.S.A. On the following day the British masters
were allowed to go on shore to see the British
naval attache. The next day, after various
formalities, the Appam went to Newport News,
where the British prisoners were set free. They
parted from Lieutenant Berg on excellent terms.
According to their testimony, the politeness of
the Germans throughout was "most marked.' '
The released captives went to New York. It
must have been a pleasant change.
On July 29th following, the Federal Court of
Norfolk, Virginia, decided the case of the Ap-
pam in favour of the British owners, holding
that the German Government lost all legal claim
upon the Appam when she was brought into
neutral waters with the intention of laying her
up for an indefinite period.
v
Subsequent Glimpses of the Raider
After parting company with the Appam, the
Raider steered for the mouth of the Amazon,
where she arrived towards the end of January.
On January 27th the Corbridge, which had beon
captured on the 11th and placed in charge of a
prize crew, arrived according to instructions;
and during the three following days the Raider
was coaling from her. On January 30th the
Raider sank the Corbridge, and so departed.
THE RAIDER 129
By February 9th the steamships Horace and
Flamenco, the sailing ship Edinburgh, and the
Belgian steamship Luxembourg were put down,
and the steamship Westbum was captured and
put in charge of a prize crew. On February 9th
the chief officer and others of the people of the
Clan Mactavish were sent on board the West-
burn and were subsequently landed at Teneriffe.
The captain and the two naval gunners and
the Lascars of the Clan Mactavish were kept on
board the Raider.
On February 23rd, the Raider sank the West-
burn in Spanish territorial waters.
On February 25th the Raider sank the Saxon
Prince. Three days later the Raider was in the
North Sea, her funnels transformed from grey
to yellow with black tops, and the Swedish
colours blazoned on either side the hull.
Early in March the Raider entered a German
port.
According to the statement made by the First
Lord of the Admiralty on March 28th, 1916, the
toll of British ships captured or sunk by the
Raider is as follows: Farrmgford, Corbridge,
Author, Bromonby, Trader, Clan Mactavish,
Horace, Flamenco, Edinburgh, Saxon Prince,
Westbum, Appam. To these must be added
the Ariadne and the Belgian steamship Luxem-
bourg.
The English admire nothing so much as the
success of an enemy.
XIV
A Gallant Warning
On a pleasant May morning in the year 1916
a company assembled in a room of the Eoyal
Naval Reserve barracks of a South Coast port
Here were officers and men of the Royal Navy
and of the mercantile marine, come to do honour
to a merchant ship master. That officer had
been as near to death as may be ; not (you will
say) an unusual circumstance; but he dared
everything to save others. Therefore you may
behold with the inward eye of retrospection a
commander of the Royal Navy handing a gold
watch to the embarrassed master, who is not
accustomed to these ceremonies, and who finds
a difficulty in discovering the right responses in
the ritual.
The commander explains that, as the legend
engraven on the watch testifies, it is presented
to the master "by the London Group of War
Risk Associations, with the approval of the
Admiralty, in recognition of his efforts to save
other ships from contact with German mines on
February 12th, 1916.' '
And how did the master do it?
130
A GALLANT WARNING 131
He was taking the little steamship Cedarwood
down the East Coast, bound for France laden
with pig-iron. There was half a gale of wind,
and there was a choppy sea. It was about ten
o 'clock in the morning when the look-out seaman
perceived a floating mine. Off the starboard
bow the bright scarlet of the mine gleamed in
and out the waves. Now where there is one
mine there are probably others, especially if
they are sown by an enemy submarine in the
coastwise track of shipping; and there were
some fifteen vessels steaming at various dis-
tances astern of the Cedarwood.
The master did not hesitate for an instant.
He eased down, hoisted flags signifying " sub-
marine mines are about,' ' and made the same
signal with steam whistle. Then he steamed in
a circle about the mine, in order both to attract
a patrol boat and to show to the ships following
him where was the danger.
Thus the master swung the Cedarwood
through the circle which was almost certain to
intersect the line of mines, if other mines there
were. And if there were, they would be moored
out of sight at a depth beneath the surface
nicely calculated to strike the hull of the Cedar-
wood. So small a vessel striking a mine would
be blown to atoms.
Nevertheless the master continued to circum-
navigate the scarlet floating mine for about a
quarter of an hour.
"At about 10.20 a.m.," so runs the master's
report, l ' I was on the bridge together with the
mate, when I heard a terrible explosion, and the
132 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
fore end of the ship seemed to go up in the air,
also some of the pig-iron cargo, at the same time
where I was standing (the upper bridge) seemed
to fall underneath me. I did not see the mate
again, and was sucked down with the ship, and
I have a recollection of getting hold of the
flagstaff on the stern, therefore I must have been
carried right aft with the force of the water. ' '
This simple statement is singularly illuminat-
ing. The tremendous shock and paralysing in-
stancy of the explosion inhibit verification by
the senses of what is happening. Therefore the
master says the fore end of the ship "seemed"
to go up in the air, and the bridge "seemed" to
fall under him. As a matter of fact both these
things did happen, and they happened simulta-
neously. The master partially lost consciousness,
for he did not remember being swept aft, buried
in water. He thinks he must have been so swept,
because he recalls clutching the flagstaff astern.
It would seem, therefore, that an explosion par-
tially or wholly paralyses consciousness, and
most often effects an instant annihilation.
The master was drawn down with the frag-
ments of the ship, smashed machinery and
masses of pig-iron. He struggled to the surface,
saw a hatch floating, swam to it, and clung to it.
Then, over the breaking sea, he perceived the
stern of a steamer, and a white boat surging
towards him. He saw the men in the boat haul
first one man and then another from the water,
and then he was helped on board. On the way
back the boat picked up another seaman who
was floating on a piece of wreckage, and the
A GALLANT WARNING 133
four soaked, dazed and shivering men were
brought on board the steamer, where ' l they were
all very kindly treated. ' ' In the meantime two
more men were rescued by another steamer.
Both these vessels, with the rest sailing on that
route, had been saved by the sacrifice of the
Cedarwood. Six men, including the master,
were rescued; six were drowned.
The next day, Sunday, early in the morning,
there rose upon the master's grateful vision the
grey spire of Gravesend Church, known to sea-
men all the world over as the half-way mark be-
tween the Nore and Port of London ; and the hill
of huddled red-roofed houses, and the water-
men coming alongside in their black wherries.
Presently the master landed beside the old
taverns leaning upon one another along the
river-wall, and trod once more the grey stones
of the deserted streets, sunk in Sunday quiet.
XV
The Fight of the "Goldmouth"
The wireless operator lay in hospital, because
his foot had been blown off, and beside his bed,
writing down his statements, sat a naval officer.
"The last message received was in code, which
I took to the captain on the bridge to be decoded,
but this was not done owing to the fact that the
captain had thrown overboard the code-book,
the vessel being then in imminent danger of
capture. ' '
Such, in fact, was the situation on board the
Goldmouth on the afternoon of March 31st, 1916.
She was homeward bound, carrying oil, and was
within some hours of the Channel, steaming
about ten knots. At about twenty minutes to
one the master descried the conning tower of
a submarine rising out of the water some three
miles away on the starboard beam, and ap-
proaching the Goldmouth. Ten minutes after-
wards the submarine opened fire.
Then began a running fight waged furiously
for more than an hour. The submarine, mount-
ing two guns, fired about ten rounds a minute,
at a range longer than the range of the single
small gun carried by the Goldmouth.
134
THE FIGHT OF THE "GOLDMOUTH" 135
The master hoisted his colours half-mast, and
gave the order to open fire. Thereafter the two
gunners of the Goldmouth served their little gun
as best they might, under the continuous fire of
the submarine. A shell smashed half the bridge
of the Goldmouth, another pierced the deck and
exploded in an oil tank, the officers' cabins
were wrecked, the hull was pierced in several
places, and the oil oozed through the holes and
spread upon the sea. Soon after the fight began,
the main steam pipe was damaged and the speed
of the Goldmouth dropped to three or four
knots.
So the stricken vessel, firing about once a
minute, crawled through the spreading surface
of oil, splinters flying, shot after shot striking
her. The master remained on the bridge. The
wireless operator, true to his service, continued
to send out calls for help. He worked under
great disabilities. Amid the incessant firing, it
was almost impossible to hear the answers he
received. But answers were sent from a distant
patrol vessel. She was too far away to arrive
in time to help the Goldmouth, but she seems to
have signalled in plain language the course the
Goldmouth was to steer. The code messages could
not be accurately decoded because the master
had thrown overboard his confidential papers.
Towards the end of the affair the wireless
operator had his foot blown off. It is extraor-
dinary that the only other casualty was the loss
of a finger suffered by a Chinaman.
By a little after two o'clock the gunners of
the Goldmouth had expended the whole of their
U6 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
ammunition. Outranged and out-gunned, they
had not scored a single hit. The Goldmouth
was totally disabled. Having done all that it
was possible to do, the master decided to aban-
don his ship.
The chief officer stated in evidence that he
considered "the master complied with Admir-
alty instructions and took all possible steps to
avoid being captured or sunk. The ship's speed
was greatly reduced owing to steam-pipe being
hit by shells, and she was outdistanced by the
submarine. The ship was hopelessly outclassed
in guns, and only stopped firing when all ammu-
nition had been expended and ship disabled."
Such is the official testimony, officially
phrased. The master's evidence is not avail-
able, for a reason which will appear.
He ordered the crew into boats. There were
only two left, a lifeboat and a smaller boat.
Three lifeboats and a smaller boat had been
smashed by shells. By this time the submarine
was close to the Goldmouth. The German
officer ordered the boats to come alongside the
submarine. The master was haled on board,
where the Germans greeted him with curses and
threatenings. Many Germans believe that any
resistance to their sovereign will is a kind of
blasphemy. The commander of the submarine
took the master prisoner, and a prisoner he
remains.
The Germans, upon being asked to give first-
aid dressings to the wounded wireless operator
and the Chinaman, refused.
The German officer ordered the boats away,
THE FIGHT OF THE "GOLDMOUTH" 137
and again opened fire on the Goldmouth. He
fired sixty rounds, and discharged two tor-
pedoes at close range, and so sank the ship.
Then he went away.
The two boats pulled for three hours, when
they were rescued by a trawler.
The crew of the Goldmouth consisted of
twelve British and forty-seven Chinamen. ' ' All
behaved well, especially the British.' '
XVI
The Worth of a Life
Serene moonlight, and a big cargo-boat roll-
ing eastwards midmost of the Mediterranean,
the watch on deck savouring the breath of the
cool night. It was midnight of July 15th-16th,
1916. Save for the murmur of the engines, there
was silence, and the darkened and flashing field
of water was empty. Then, low down on the
surface, there shone a tongue of fire; there
came the detonation of a gun, sudden and
startling, and a shell whined in the air some-
where near the Virginia. The master, who was
below in his cabin, ran up to the bridge.
As the master came up he found the firemen
rushing up from the stokehold, and ordered
them below again.
At first the master could see nothing; and,
not knowing whence or by whom the shot was
fired, he stopped the engines. Then he descried
the conning-tower of a submarine five or six
hundred yards astern and overhauling him.
The master instantly ordered full speed ahead
and steered to keep the enemy astern.
The submarine fired, and continued to fire.
138
THE WORTH OF A LIFE 189
Then began a chase in which the submarine, with
her high speed and small turning circle, easily-
countered the manoeuvres of the hunted ship,
keeping steadily on her port quarter. The fire-
men stuck to their work, but nine and a half
knots was the best the ship could do. Now and
again she was hit. The Virginia was unarmed.
The master ordered the wireless operator to
send the distress call, S.O.S., and he received
from some unknown ship the reply "Coming."
But no ship came. The master, in case of
emergencies, destroyed his confidential papers,
and held on. Whether or not some of the crew
were wounded during the chase is uncertain.
After half an hour a shell smashed the funnel,
filling the engine-room with soot and ashes,
whereupon the engineers and firemen came on
deck, and the master decided that the game was
up. He stopped the ship and ordered the men
into the boats. The submarine continued to fire.
There was the stricken ship, rolling in a cloud
of smoke and steam, the boats rising and falling
alongside, the men scrambling down the life-
lines, and, beyond, the submarine leisurely fir-
ing. The shells struck the ship and the splinters
flew among the hurrying men. Ten of them
were wounded.
Twenty-five men got away in three boats and
rowed clear of the ship. The fourth boat had
been hit and was lying alongside full of water.
The master, the chief officer and twenty-three
others were left on board to get away as best
they might. The chief engineer, the wireless
operator and the chief steward, the carpenter
140 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
and a seaman stayed by the master and chief
officer and helped them to get the men into the
water-logged boat. They were all embarked, as,
in the stress and tumult, they believed, except
the master and the chief officer, when the master
discovered a wounded man of the native crew.
The chief officer stayed to help the master lift
the helpless man and lower him into the boat.
At the same time they perceived the white
track of a torpedo swiftly lengthening towards
the ship, saw it strike the hull, glance off, and
turn back. At about sixty yards' distance it
exploded, flinging up a column of water.
The master and the chief officer had lowered
the wounded man into the boat, when they saw
the track of another torpedo. They were still
on board when the torpedo struck the Virginia
full under the main rigging, port side, below the
water-line, tearing her to pieces. Instantly she
settled down, and the master and the chief
officer were drawn down with her. But she did
not sink at once. The master, struggling to the
surface, laid hold on her bows, and drew breath.
Then down she went, and down with her again
went the master. He came up again and was
hauled into the water-logged boat.
The chief officer was never seen again. He
lost his life because he remained with the mas-
ter to help him to save the wounded man.
Exactly what happened to the water-logged
and crowded boat lying alongside when the ship
went down is not clear. She was drawn down
with the ship, but she seems to have kept right
side up. In any case, she remained afloat, and
THE WORTH OF A LIFE 141
an hour and a half afterwards she was picked
up by a French patrol boat.
Whether or not the submarine dived after
firing the second torpedo and departing, the
master was unable to state, because, as he says,
he "was under the water at the time.,,
While these things were happening in the
Virginia two of the other three boats were
standing off, and the third officer in the other
boat was ordered by the commander of the
submarine to come alongside. The submarine
captain asked the third officer for information
concerning the ship, and then inquired if there
were still people on board her. He then ordered
the third officer to bring to him the master and
the ship 's papers, giving him thirty minutes to
go and come.
About four minutes after the third officer had
left the submarine her commander fired the
first torpedo. By that time the French patrol
boat was in sight ; and it may be supposed that
the submarine officer, seeing the enemy, aban-
doned his intention of saving the captain and
the rest of the crew, and decided swiftly to end
the business. As he did.
The submarine officers wore blue tunics with
high collars, and their caps differed from the
German pattern. The men wore jerseys open
at the neck. The submarine was new painted
grey above her water-line when running awash,
and black below. She mounted one gun forward
of the conning-tower. Presumably she was
Austrian.
All the boats of the Virginia were picked up
142 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
]by the French patrol boat. One of the wounded
men died on board her, and was buried at sea.
The rescued men " received great kindness"
from their French hosts in the patrol vessel.
In the following September the master was
awarded by the Board of Trade a silver medal
for having remained on board the sinking vessel
in order to rescue a wounded native seaman.
XVII
The Engineers of the "Yser"
On the night of July 19th, 1915, the little
cargo-boat Yser, on the way from Cette to
Gibraltar in ballast, passed a vessel which the
captain took to be a merchant vessel, and
thought no more about her. At seven o'clock
next morning the master saw the conning-tower
of a submarine start out of the haze about a
mile and a half away on the port bow. Almost
at the same moment came the flash and report
of her gun.
The master ordered full steam and fled. The
submarine, rapidly overhauling him, fired shot
after shot, at intervals of two or three minutes.
One projectile flew so close to the master that
he was blown backwards with the wind of its
passing. Fragments of shell hurtled down upon
the bridge and deck.
During the attack, the steamship which had
been passed by the Yser in the night was four
or five miles distant, beyond the submarine and
astern of the Yser, holding a parallel course.
The submarine thought it worth while to fire a
shot at her.
148
144 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
When the submarine was within about half a
mile the master of the Yser, considering that
the enemy could fire into the ship when he chose,
disabling her and killing the crew, decided to
abandon ship. So he stopped engines and
ordered the boats to be swung out. No sooner
had he stopped than the submarine unaccount-
ably submerged. Without staying to reflect
upon what was the reason for the enemy's
manoeuvre, the master instantly seized the
chance to escape, and started slow ahead.
At first it seemed as though the enemy had
really gone, and hope gleamed upon the people
of the Yser. The chief engineer below, after the
sudden cessation of the stress of keeping up full
steam and working the engines under fire, had
brought his men to it again, and they were again
doing their utmost. Until now they had endured
that suspense which is the portion of men below
during an attack; unable to see what was hap-
pening on deck, hearing the incessant reports
of gunfire, and momently expecting a shell to
burst among them. Now, having brought the
ship through during a hot twenty minutes,
having been told that their job was done, and
having settled to abandon ship, they must begin
all over again. And at the orders of the chief
engineer they did it. Here is a silent and homely
exploit which deserves remembrance, and which
makes notable the affair of the Yser.
But presently the master descried the menac-
ing periscope cleaving the surface about a
quarter of a mile away on the starboard side.
The submarine had gained a quarter of a mile
THE ENGINEERS OF THE "YSER" 145
in a few minutes. Then the master perceived
the track of an approaching torpedo.
It was now a question of seconds. The master
stopped engines and ordered all hands into the
boats. The whole of the crew, twenty-five men,
got away, and the seven officers were in the act
to follow them into the boats when the torpedo
struck. The chief officer, descending the life-
line, was flung into the sea and sank, dead. The
torpedo blew an immense hole right through the
ship from side to side.
The boats pulled away as the ship settled
down, and five minutes afterwards she was
gone. It was then about half-past seven.
In the meantime the strange vessel which,
during the attack, was steaming four or five
miles away from the Yser, and gradually closing
her, had disappeared. When the men in the
boats had been cruising about for some hours
she returned, picked them up and brought them
into port.
From first to last the enemy submarine made
no signal and hoisted no colours.
xvm
Slipping Between
The case of the Roddam may be cited as an
example among thousands of examples of the
vigilance of the Admiralty. It is no fault of
the Navy that it is unable to give an absolute
protection to mariners; they are now obliged
to fight in their own defence as best they may;
and during the continuance of the war it is
impossible to record by what means or in what
degree the Navy has defended and saved mer-
chant shipping from mine, submarine and
cruiser. It must be enough for the present to
know that in default of the Navy the losses
inflicted by the enemy on the merchant service
would be indefinitely multiplied. One might
even say that in default of the Navy, ere three
years of war were done, there would have been
no merchant service.
The Trade division of the Admiralty has an
eye like the Mormon eye. It is omnipresent. It
beholds every officer and man, every ship, boat,
cargo and gun of the mercantile marine. All
that can be done to avert catastrophe is done;
in the event of catastrophe, all is saved that
146
SLIPPING BETWEEN 147
can be saved, and brought home from the ends
of the earth.
On September 26th, 1916, the cargo-boat
Roddam was going home across the north-west
Mediterranean, in the area lying between the
Balearic Islands and the Spanish coast. In the
morning a French torpedo-boat destroyer slid
into signalling range and told the master of the
Roddam that a submarine had been sighted some
hours earlier, in such-and-such a position, steer-
ing a course which would bring her towards the
R oddam. The ma ster altered course accordingly .
At half-past two another French destroyer
signalled that a submarine had been sighted,
and gave the master of the Roddam his course.
The master obeyed instructions, ordered his
two gunners to stand by their gun, kept a strict
look-out, and in this state of suspense held on
for two hours, in fine clear weather, a fresh
breeze and a tumbling, following sea.
Suddenly came the report of a distant gun, and
a shell came over from astern, pitching into the
water a ship 's length ahead. The master ran the
red ensign to the main, and ordered the gunners
to open fire. It was a futile exercise, for the
submarine, almost invisible six or seven miles
astern, had the range of the Roddam, whose
shot fell hopelessly short of the enemy.
A shell entered the chart-room and passed out
through the wheel-house; another pierced the
deck of the bridge; others went through the
after-deck.
The master asked the two Eoyal Marine
gunners what they thought about it. They
148 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
thought it was perfectly useless to try to hit an
enemy who was out of reach, and who could
shell the Roddam at leisure.
The master hauled down his flag, stopped
engines, and ordered the boats away. The
action had lasted about a quarter of an hour.
Within the next fifteen minutes both boats were
away. There were eleven people in the port
boat, under the command of the chief officer,
and seventeen people in the starboard boat, under
the command of the master. Both boats sailed
to windward. There was a nasty sea, the wind
veering and gusty, and the two boats were soon
separated by some distance. The chief officer,
after cruising for half an hour, perceived the
submarine approaching. Coming alongside the
master's boat, she stopped, and lay still for
about half an hour. The dusk was gathering, and
the chief officer was too far away to see details.
He perceived the submarine to draw near the
Roddam and to fire into her fore and aft, until
she listed over to starboard and began to settle
by the stern. Then the submarine came towards
the chief officer, who went about to meet her, but
she kept on, and so disappeared into the dark.
By this time both the Roddam and the master's
boat were invisible. The chief officer handled
his boat so that she might five through the gale,
suiting his course to the weather.
In the meantime, when the submarine was
approaching the master's boat, flying a small
Austrian ensign on her periscope, the submarine
officer ordered the master's boat alongside, and
standing on the conning-tower clad in oilskins,
SLIPPING BETWEEN 149
revolver in hand, shouted, " Where's the cap-
tain 1 ' ' The master 's boat, on coming alongside
the submarine in a lop of sea, stove in several
strakes upon the submarine 's handrail. Five or
six Austrian seamen, dressed in brown overalls,
were on the deck of the submarine.
The Austrian officer ordered the master to
come on board, and asked the usual question:
"Why did you fire!" He demanded the ship's
papers, and the master gave him a wallet, which
contained some old and valueless account sheets.
His confidential papers had been thrown over-
board in a weighted bag.
The submarine officer said, "I suppose you
know you are a prisoner of wart" and pointed
to the hatch. The master, who seems to have
held his peace during the interrogation, silently
disappeared through the hatch and was no more
seen. (Fortunately the two gunners were in the
other boat, and so escaped capture.)
The command of the starboard boat then
devolved upon the second officer. The captain
of the submarine seems to have left the subse-
quent conduct of the affair to the lieutenant, who
was courteous enough. As the starboard boat of
the Roddam was damaged, he allowed the second
officer to return to his ship to get another.
"I give you a good chance to go on board,"
said he, and towed the starboard boat back to
the Roddam, The lieutenant stipulated that no
one was to go on the gun platform, told the
second officer he was to steer north-north-west,
and stood clear.
The second officer, who had been slightly
150 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
wounded during the attack, climbed on board the
forlorn and broken ship. Hurried and shaken
as he was, he searched among the wreckage for
the ship's papers in case they had not been
destroyed, but it was impossible to find anything
among the ruins.
Then he got away the motor-boat and put
eight persons into her, the other eight remaining
in the damaged starboard boat, and laid his
course for the mainland, which was some thirty-
five miles distant.
As the two boats receded the darkness astern
was cloven by the flashes of the guns of the
submarine as she fired into the deserted ship.
All three boats were now adrift in a gale, the
chief officer's boat being separated from the
other two. For the time being the eye of the
Admiralty lost sight of them. But not for long.
About one o'clock in the morning the chief
officer, struggling to keep the boat alive in a
heavy sea and with a shifting wind, burned red
flares to call the other boats. The second officer
answered with red flares; but in that weather
the chief officer could not reach the other boats,
and did not, in fact, see them again.
At daylight he made sail and steered for the
mainland. After sailing for three or four hours
he sighted a steamer, and steered for her, mak-
ing signals of distress. At about half -past nine
the boat was picked up by a neutral vessel,
which landed the chief officer's party at Valen-
cia. So much for one boat.
The second officer's party, at daylight, were
within fifteen or twenty miles of land, which
SLIPPING BETWEEN 151
was visible. Their progress towards it in that
weather was very slow ; and at noon they were
picked up by a French man-of-war, which landed
them at Marseilles.
On the following day the Admiralty knew
that the chief officer's party had been landed at
Valencia, that the master was a prisoner, and
that the second officer's party had been picked
up by the French man-of-war aforesaid. But
where the second officer's party had been landed
the Admiralty, owing to some telegraphic con-
fusion, did not then know. Immediately a
number of persons in various parts of the world
understood that the Admiralty wanted to know
and intended to find out. Nor was it long before
the Admiralty had accounted for every man of
the Boddam, not to mention her boats. And
eventually there came to the Admiralty informa-
tion that the captive master was alive and well.
The master, like many another British master,
knew that in fighting his ship, as in duty bound,
with the weapons provided, he had but the
slightest chance of defeating the enemy, and he
also knew that if his ship was taken he would
be made a prisoner of war. A ship too slow tp
escape, a target too small to hit, and prison in
front of him; such at that time was the pre-
dicament of the mercantile marine master. He
tried to escape, and was overhauled ; he fought,
and was outmatched ; and so to prison.
The Boddam slipped between the protection
of the French patrol and luck.
XIX
Heavy Weather
The submarine prefers to attack in fine
weather. It is pleasanter for all parties con-
cerned, and much easier. The reports usually
record weather fine and clear, light airs, slight
swell. But the Cabotia was attacked and chased
in a North Atlantic autumn gale.
She left the United States on October 9th,
1916, carrying some 5,000 tons of cargo, consist-
ing of wood pulp and 300 horses, and steamed
at once into a gale. It blew hard, with a heavy
sea, almost without cessation, and after eleven
days was worse. On the 20th a full gale was
blowing from the south-west. The Cabotia,
steaming east, was holding a zig-zag course at
ten knots, pitching and rolling, the sea continu-
ally washing over the decks. The master, the
chief officer, and the second officer were in the
chart-house, working out the position of the ship
taken by observation at noon. They made out
that she was 120 miles from the nearest land, or
twelve hours' steaming. These were the dan-
gerous hours. If nothing happened during the
day, by midnight the ship would be safe.
152
HEAVY WEATHER 153
The third officer was on watch on the bridge,
where an able seaman was at the wheel. An
able seaman was looking ont on the forecastle
head, scanning the broken hills of water rising
and falling away to the grey horizon.
Suddenly, across the smother, the look-out
saw a dark and glistening object emerge. It
was about three miles away on the starboard
bow. The officers left the chart-house; the
master went on the bridge; and all deck hands
were summoned on deck. The master put the
ship right about, bringing the submarine astern.
The submarine fired, and continued to fire at
intervals of about five minutes, while she
manoeuvred to get on the Cabotia1 s quarter.
But the master of the Cabotia kept a zig-zag
course, and manoeuvred quicker than the sub-
marine, so that the chief officer presently said
he thought the Cabotia could escape. She was
unarmed.
The movement of the ship, turning swiftly to
port and starboard alternately in a beam sea,
was very violent. The sufferings of the horses
penned below are not described, but they may
be imagined. The engineers and firemen, as
usual, stuck to their work and kept the ship at
her full speed of ten knots. It is uncertain
whether or not the ship was hit during a chase
which thus furiously proceeded for an hour and
a half. But the officers of the Cabotia clustered
on the oscillating bridge were staring aft at the
shape astern. It was now buried in flying
water, the gunner at his gun plunged up to his
neck in the sea, now emerging and firing with a
154 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
sullen flash and a detonation torn by the wind ;
and the people in the Cabotia perceived that in
spite of her difficult manoeuvring, the submarine
had three knots the better in speed, and was
overhauling them.
The master ordered the boats to be swung
out, and dropped his confidential papers over-
board. No one thought the boats could live in
the sea then running; but they were the only
chance. The wireless operator had been con-
stantly making the distress call, and a little
before two o 'clock he received an answer.
But by that time the submarine was close
under the stern of the Cabotia, and she put a
shell through the Cabotia's funnel. Then the
master stopped engines, hoisted the signal that
he was abandoning ship, and ordered the crew
into the boats.
Here was another test of discipline and sea-
manship, to get the boats away from the rolling
vessel, in that frightful sea, under the continual
fire of the submarine. Among the seventy-four
men of the crew, besides British, were Greeks,
Italians, Portuguese, Americans, Danes and
Norwegians ; and all ' ' behaved splendidly. ' '
There were four boats, each having a week's
provisions on board, and all were safely
launched. The boats were in charge of the mas-
ter, chief, second and third officers respectively.
In that sea it was all they could do to keep their
boats afloat, and they were immediately sepa-
rated each from the other.
The second officer, who with his men expected
every instant to be drowned, kept his boat
HEAVY WEATHER 155
before the sea, the men pulling to keep steerage
way on her, and so waited for orders from the
master. He saw the submarine go alongside
the third officer's boat, and speak to the third
officer. Then the submarine went close to the
Cabotia and fired twelve shots into her. The
Cabotia settled slowly down, and about half an
hour afterwards she was gone.
About the same time the second officer sighted
a steamer. He hoisted a shirt on the mast, and
pulled hard towards her. The steamer stopped,
but made no reply to the signal of distress ; and
the second officer, tossing desperately within a
few hundred yards, saw the submarine go along-
side the strange vessel. She carried neutral
colours printed on her side, and a black funnel
with a deep white band.
Without taking the slightest notice of the
boats, the steamer got under way, saluted the
submarine with a blast on her whistle, and
departed. No explanation of these circum-
stances is available. That was what happened.
The second officer, abandoned to his fate, kept
the boat before the sea, and looked for the other
boats, but he could not see them. It was then
about three o'clock in the afternoon. Four
terrible hours later heavy rain began to fall,
and the sea moderated a little. The second
officer then steered for the land, about 120 miles
distant, the men pulling steadily all night.
When the ragged daylight dawned on the
desolate sea, the second officer set sail, and made
good way in comparative ease. At nine o'clock
that morning the second officer sighted a patrol
156 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
boat right ahead. A few minutes later the
second officer and his sturdy crew were safe on
board the patrol boat, and the drenched, cold
and exhausted men were sitting down to a hot
breakfast.
In the meantime the chief officer's boat had
gone through much the same ordeal. When the
second officer pulled towards the strange steamer
the chief officer was astern of him and further
away from the vessel. The chief officer also
made signals of distress, hoisting an apron.
Like the second officer, he saw the steamer stop,
noted her neutral colours and the white band on
her funnel, saw the submarine draw alongside
and converse with her, saw her depart.
At that time the master's boat and the third
officer 's boat were within sight of the other two,
and all remained in company, though widely
separated, drifting northwards stern to sea
until dark.
When daylight came the chief officer's boat
was alone. The chief officer hoisted sail, and
laid his course for the land.
The second officer, on coming on board the
patrol boat, of course reported the situation to
her captain, who immediately steamed in search
of the other three boats. Within twenty minutes
the chief officer's boat was sighted, a little and
solitary sail cleaving the wandering waters ; and
presently he and his party were safe on board
the patrol.
All that day, all the night and all the follow-
ing day the patrol vessel cruised in search of the
master's and the third officer's boats. They
HEAVY WEATHER 157
were not found. The second officer still held to
a hope that they had been driven far to the
north and would be rescued or make a landfall.
But they were never seen again.
Thirty-two officers and men went down on
that night of storm; thirty-two out of seventy-
four. In such a sea a small boat with little
steerage way might be pooped at any moment;
that is, being continually followed and overhung
by huge seas, she might fail to rise to the next
sea in time, when the following wave would fall
upon her, sending her to the bottom like a stone.
Of this hazard the commanding officer of the
German submarine was perfectly aware, when
he forced the master of the Cabotia to abandon
ship, with the alternative of being torpedoed
and himself and the ship's company drowned.
It is also evident that the submarine officer pre-
vented the steamer which came along from
rescuing the men in the boats. Either that
steamer was a German disguised as a neutral, or
she was a neutral. If she was a neutral ship
(which seems probable) the submarine officer
must have told her master that if she picked
up the boats she would herself be destroyed. If
the ship was a German vessel, the case is no
better. The thirty-two men were murdered.
The example of the Cabotia showed that a
submarine can attack in weather so heavy that
a small patrol boat could hardly live in it, and
even if she came through, her speed would be
considerably decreased.
Neither of the two officers of the Cabotia
whose evidence is recorded made any mention
158 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
of the events of that night, during which their
boats drifted before the wind and sea of a North
Atlantic gale in autumn. Yet during all those
dark hours the men, beaten upon by the driving
rain, soaked with spray, went on rowing and
rowing; while the steersman, feeling the boat
leap and sway under his hand, knew that the
slightest failure in vigilance was certain death.
XX
A Sitting Shot
The ship was anchored for the night, and the
chief engineer, having pumped up his boilers,
closed all connections and made sure that
everything was correct, as a careful man should,
went up to the deck-house for a little chat before
turning in. Here was the master, who, having
seen that the anchor lights were burning, the
watch was set and all was snug, also felt dis-
posed for social relaxation.
That day, February 1st, 1916, the master and
the engineer had brought the Franz Fischer, a
little ex-German collier (now officially described
as the property of the Lord High Admiral) down
the east coast, amid various alarms and through
a thick haze. Finally, the master received a
warning from a patrol boat that there were
floating mines ahead. It was then about nine
o'clock of a windless night, and " black dark,"
and the master had decided to anchor where he
was, off the south-east coast.
The two men, at this pause in their toils,
talked of mines and submarines and enemy
cruisers and the anxiety of navigating unlighted
159
160 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
waters, and how they were safe where they lay,
for a night at least. But they had forgotten one
thing.
While the master and the chief engineer were
thus peacefully engaged, the boatswain was on
the bridge, in charge of the watch, with an able
seaman.
Presently the boatswain remarked that he
" heard a noise like an aeroplane.' ' The obser-
vation interested the able seaman because, as he
said, he had " never previously heard an aero-
plane/ ' and he listened to the strange tin-like
humming, gazing up into the opaque darkness.
The mate, who was in his cabin adjoining the
master's room in the deck-house, came upon
the bridge. The mate's opinion was that the
noise came, not from an aeroplane, but from a
Zeppelin. The invisible thing in the air seemed
to be circling about the ship.
The two men in the master's cabin, hearing a
faint, whirring sound, paused in their conversa-
tion to listen to it. At the same moment there
came a knocking on the bulkhead, and the mate's
voice asking the master if he heard aircraft.
"Yes — what is it?" said the master. The
mate replied that he did not know, but that,
whatever it was, it was approaching from the
south-east. As they hearkened the humming
died away, and for a minute or two there was
silence.
Suddenly the vibrating roar of aerial engines
burst upon the ship so close above her that "the
sound was like several express railway trains
all crossing a bridge together, and at its loudest
A SITTING SHOT 161
it would not be possible to hear a man shout."
So said the able seaman, who was on deck.
What the boatswain thought will never be
known, because he did not live to tell.
Then the clangour stopped once more ; again
there was a brief and terrifying silence; and
then a tremendous explosion in the ship, which
shivered all over, steadied, and began to heel
over to port.
The master and the chief engineer, coming
out from the deck-house into the alleyway, were
met by a falling column of water and were flung
backwards into the cabin, while the able seaman
was dashed against the door of the galley and
partially stunned.
The chief engineer, struggling to his feet, ran
out on the listing deck to summon the men from
below, and came to the engine-room companion
just as the second mate, second engineer, stew-
ard, donkey-man and mess-room boy came
crowding up, all naked as they had tumbled out
of their berths. The chief engineer missed a
fireman, but he had no time to look for him.
The ship was heeling over rapidly. The chief
engineer ran to the starboard lifeboat, which
was swung out, and in which was a seaman.
At the same time the able seaman, coming to
his senses, sprang for the boats, which were
surrounded by the dim figures of naked men, and
which, as the ship leaned over, were jammed in
the falls. As usual, no one had a knife. A man
ran to the galley to fetch a knife. The ship
turned over, everyone on board was drawn down
with her, and, said the chief engineer, she
162 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
"appeared as if she sank just like a stone."
The chief engineer, coming to the surface,
scanned the dark waters, caught sight of a
floating object, swam to it, and held on to the
box containing lifebelts, which had been washed
from the bridge of the ship. All about the
chief engineer cries for help went up from the
men in the water. Several swimmers gained the
box and clung to it. In the icy water, the dark-
ness and confusion, the chief engineer thought
that about eight men were clustered about the
box, and he remembers recognising the second
mate and the donkey-man. The men tried to
climb upon the box and capsized it. With much
desperate swearing, it was righted again, but
some of the men, paralysed by the cold of the
water, had gone down. Those who remained
continued struggling to climb upon the box, and
to capsize it, and more men dropped off and
were drowned.
The chief engineer, considering that he would
be safer by himself, let go the box and struck
out. He found a lifebelt floating, put it on, and
swam and floated until he lost consciousness.
The next thing he knew he was lying in the
bottom of a boat, rescued.
Still clinging to the box were the able seaman,
who was on watch when the ship was attacked,
and the donkey-man. The able seaman heard the
clank and splash of oars and saw aboat approach-
ing, when the donkey-man relaxed his grasp and
sank, and the able seaman could not save him.
The boat came from the Belgian steamship
Paul, which had been anchored within half a
A SITTING SHOT 163
mile. It would have arrived sooner but for
accidents. According to the captain's statement
(published in The Times), after the explosion
he heard cries of distress, and got away his
lifeboat, manned by the mate, the boatswain, an
able seaman and a fireman. In the thick dark-
ness it was at first impossible to ascertain
whence they came. Presently the shouts of three
men were distinguishable, and the boat went
away, and picked up first the able seaman, who
was hanging on to the box, then the steward,
who was floating in a lifebelt, then the chief
engineer, who was to all appearance dead.
Then the boat was carried out to sea on the
strong ebb. The master of the Paul waited and
listened for her, and presently descried a signal,
which he rightly interpreted to mean that she
could not make head against the tide. The
master must therefore go to the boat's assist-
ance. Steam was raised, and the windlass
manned to heave on the anchor. Then the
windlass broke. Upon the details of that
troubled time the master is silent; but it took
three hours' hard work to reach the boat, with
the ship's anchor dragging astern.
By that time one of the rescued men was so
far gone from this life that when he was lifted
aboard the Paul restoratives were applied for
an hour before he revived.
Thirteen men out of sixteen were lost.
But their murderers, the crew of ZeppelinL19,
also tasted salt water. The next morning a
trawler beheld the ghastly tattered ruin of an
airship sagging in the winter sea.
XXI
Shipmates with a Pirate
Morning of November 1st, 1916. A steam-
ship rolling in the long swell of the North
Atlantic, pursued by shots fired from astern by
an invisible enemy. The Seatonia slipped this
way and that like a hunted animal, the master
scanning the hills of water rising and falling,
until he saw the submarine. She was then some
seven miles distant. Smoke, shot with flame,
continually burst from her guns, and shells sang
about the Seatonia, falling nearer and nearer.
So, for nearly three hours. Then the submarine,
running close on the steamer's beam, signalled
1 ' Abandon ship. ' '
The master stopped engines and ordered the
two boats away. Fourteen people went in the
port lifeboat, seventeen in the starboard life-
boat, including the master, who was the last to
leave the ship.
The port lifeboat was in charge of the chief
officer and was first away. The submarine then
hoisted the German ensign, and two small flags ;
and as the master's boat was launched, the
submarine officer ordered her to come alongside*
164
SHIPMATES WITH A PIRATE 165
The chief officer, standing off, saw the master
and the rest of the people in the starboard life-
boat taken on board the submarine, and the
lifeboat cast adrift. Whereupon the chief
officer got under way, steered east by north,
and (to make an end of his adventures) was
picked up two or three hours afterwards by a
neutral steamer, and subsequently landed in a
neutral port, whence, with the thirteen men
under his command, he came home in due time.
The master and the sixteen others of the crew
of the starboard lifeboat were sent below in
the submarine, so that the master did not see
his ship sink; but he heard the "cough" of
the discharge of the two torpedoes which sank
her. The chief engineer of the Seatonia, who
was also below, says he saw the torpedoes fired.
The submarine then submerged, and the English
and the other nationalities of the Seatonia's
people were alone with the Germans in that
narrow cylinder, intricate and glittering with
pipes, wheels, valves and every kind of
mechanism.
The commanding officer of the submarine was
of sallow complexion and sharp of feature,
looking about forty years of age. The first
lieutenant was about thirty, a fair man of
middle size. The second lieutenant, a dark,
clean-shaven young officer, had (he said) lived
for some years in Nova Scotia, and spoke good
English.
The crew numbered forty-six. They wore
thick felt-lined brown coats and trousers, made
of rubber or waterproofed leather. The internal
166 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
fittings of the vessel were stamped V 49. Ex-
ternally she carried no number, and was painted
the usual grey.
The master says no word, bad or good, of his
experience on board the enemy submarine. It
is certain that he must have suffered a good deal
of discomfort, for there is no accommodation
for passengers in a submarine, and little enough
for the crew. The commanding officer and first
lieutenant may have had fitted bed-places; the
other officer and the men slept on the floor. On
that night of November 1st the people of the
Seatonia must have been packed like herrings,
and the air must have become very dense. It
seems that they were hospitably treated. The
commanding officer asked many questions of the
master, who, if he were like other masters, did
not illuminatingly respond. The lieutenant who
had dwelt in Nova Scotia appears to have been
socially disposed.
At eight o 'clock the next morning, November
2nd, the submarine captain invited the master
to come up on deck. There, in the keen air and
sudden daylight, the master beheld three British
steam trawlers tossing on a heavy run of sea.
These were the Caswell, Kyoto, and Ear fat
Castle. But the master had not been asked on
deck to admire the view. The submarine officer
had already made his arrangements, and the
master was part of them. The men of the
Caswell were ordered to bring their boat along-
side, and the submarine officer ordered the
master to visit each of the three trawlers, to
estimate the amount of coal in her bunkers, and
SHIPMATES WITH A PIRATE 167
to open the sea-cocks, in the two which had least
coal, and so to sink them. Such, at least, was
what the master understood he was to do.
The master had no choice but to obey. So
he went away in the Caswell's boat. The crews
of the other two trawlers were getting away in
their boats. No sooner was the crew of the
Kyoto clear of her than the master was startled
by the report of a gun, and saw a shell strike
the Kyoto. The submarine fired into her till she
sank. Apparently the German officer decided
to hasten the good work.
Then the master perceived another steam
trawler coming up. She looked like an Icelandic
boat, was named Bragi, and was flying Danish
colours. He afterwards discovered, that the
Dane had been captured by the submarine four
days previously, and was then under the com-
mand of a German lieutenant, with an armed
guard of three men. The Bragi was acting as
consort to the submarine. She lay-to, and the
submarine officer set the crews of all three
trawlers and some of the Seatonia's crew to
shifting coal from the two remaining British
trawlers, Caswell and Harfat Castle, to the
Bragi.
There was a considerable sea running, and
the forced working party must hoist the coal
from the bunkers, lower it into the boats, pull
the boats across to the Bragi, hoist the coal on
board her, return and do it all over again — a
hard and heavy job. The Germans looked on.
The master makes no remark upon this
procedure. The work went on for about six
168 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
hours, and was finished at half -past four in the
afternoon. Then the black, wet and weary
men were ordered on board the Bragi, which
thus received the crew of the Seatonia and the
crews of the three trawlers. The master of the
Seatonia was kept on board the submarine.
The submarine officer ordered the master of
the Bragi to come on board, gave him his instruc-
tions, and sent him back to his ship. The
trawlers ' boats were hoisted on board the Bragi,
and the two remaining trawlers, now gutted of
coal and supplies, were sunk by gunfire. The
Bragi got under way and departed.
The master of the Seatonia was left alone
with his German captors in the submarine.
The master was allowed on deck when there
was no ship in sight, and he admired the sea-
worthy qualities of the submarine. She was
much on the surface, both by day and night;
during the whole time the master was on board
it was blowing hard with a heavy sea; and he
considered that the submarine " worked on the
surface in a most weatherly way."
When a vessel which might have been an
enemy was sighted the submarine dived, some-
what, it must be supposed, to the master's relief;
for if she was put down he would infallibly go
down with her, and it would have been a pity to
be drowned by one's own people.
Twice during the night of November 3rd,
the master's third night on board, firing went
on over his head on deck. Two ships were
attacked, and so far as the master could dis-
cover, unsuccessfully. In preparing to attack,
SHIPMATES WITH A PIRATE 169
the submarine always submerged so soon as the
ship was sighted, then rose again to fire at her.
The next night, the 4th, another vessel was
attacked. Nothing more seems to have hap-
pened till the night of the 7th, when the master
understood that the submarine was firing on the
U.S.A. steamship Columbian.
Next day, November 8th, the submarine
forced a Norwegian steamer, the Balto, to stop
and wait for orders. Then the submarine once
more attacked the Columbian, compelled the
crew to abandon her, sent them on board the
Norwegian, and then torpedoed the Columbian.
That was an interesting day for the British
master. In her, but not of her, he watched a
first-class pirate at work. The next day, the
9th, was also variously destructive. The sub-
marine stopped a Swedish steamer, the Varmg,
and to her transferred the crews of the sunk
Columbian and of the Balto. Thus it became
feasible to sink the Balto; and accordingly
bombs were exploded on board her, and she
sank about noon.
The master of the Seatonia was now released
from captivity and sent on board the Varing,
where there were already 134 people, in addition
to the crew. The master made the 135th. The
same afternoon 25 more persons joined the
party, making 160 captives in all. For the sub-
marine had forced the crew of the Norwegian
Fordelen to abandon her, sent them to the
Varing, and sunk the Fordelen.
The submarine officer sent a prize crew on
board the Varing, and at midnight the German
170 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
officer in command of the Varing suddenly
sighted a British vessel of war, and at once
cleared the upper deck of all passengers.
During the nine days of the master 's captivity
the submarine sank the Seatonia, the three
trawlers Caswell, Kyoto and Harfat Castle, the
neutral vessels Columbian, Balto and Fordelen,
seven in all, and captured the Varing. She
had already captured the Danish trawler Bragi,
which was acting as consort. The disposition of
the captured crews was ingenious. The Seato-
nia's people went to the submarine herself,
thence to the Danish consort. The Columbian
was not put down until provision was made for
.her crew in the Balto. The crews of Columbian
and Balto were both transferred from the Balto
to the Varing, and then the Balto was sunk. The
crew of the Fordelen also went to the Varing,
and then the Fordelen was sunk.
The commanding officer of the submarine thus
preserved the lives of the people whose ships
he destroyed, making no distinction whatever
between belligerent and neutral ships. The
master of the Seatonia was treated not as a
prisoner of war, but as a civilian prisoner. As
he had not fired upon the submarine — having
indeed no gun — he did in fact retain his civilian
rights, which were respected.
The next morning, November 10th, the mas-
ter, with one of the captive crews, was landed
in a neutral port.
In the meantime the Bragi, according to her
instructions, arrived on November 5th off a
neutral port, which was her rendezvous. The
SHIPMATES WITH A PIRATE 171
next day the submarine fetched up with the
Varing in company. The master of the Bragi
was again summoned on board the submarine,
where he received his dismissal from the
German service. He afterwards landed his
passengers in a neutral port, and so departed on
his own affairs, carrying in his mind a powerful
objection, mentioned by the submarine officer,
against carrying fish for England.
The use made by the Germans of neutral ships
and neutral ports would seem to add a new
meaning to the accepted notion of neutrality.
XXII
"A Cheerful Note"
"Thus sang they in the English boat
A holy and a cheerful note." — A. Marvell.
The master of the City of Birmingham, left
alone on board his ship, which was sinking
under him, collected his confidential books and
papers, stowed them in a weighted bag, went
on the bridge and hove them overboard.
Pulling away from the ship over the smooth
swell were seven boats laden with passengers.
Across the water floated the pleasant sound of
women's voices, singing. . . .
The sound was a gracious, unconscious testi-
mony to the master's forethought, skill and
hardihood. A little more than ten minutes ago
all the people in the boats had been snug in the
ship, which was steaming peacefully at thirteen
knots : all men on duty at their stations, every-
thing correct, no sign of an enemy. There were
a crew of 145, of whom 29 were British and 116
were Lascars, and passengers numbering 170, of
whom about 90 were women and children. There
was no warning ere the torpedo struck the
vessel.
172
"A CHEERFUL NOTE" 173
The master on the bridge perceived that the
after half of the ship was under water. He had
stayed by his ship to the last, and now it was
time for him to go. He swung himself from the
bridge and ran to the forecastle head, and as he
reached it the ship went down, taking the master
with her. He came to the surface, struck out,
swam to a couple of floating planks and clung to
them. It was November 27th, 1916, and the
water of the Mediterranean was very cold.
To the master, adrift on the last remnant of
his fine ship, still came the sound of women's
voices, singing; but they seemed very far off.
Rising and falling on the long slopes of the
swell, the master could see the boats no longer.
It occurred to him that they could not see him,
either. Would they conclude he was drowned
with his ship? Would each boat think the
other had him on board? Would he be left to
perish, alone among the people in the ship, the
people whom he had saved?
Swinging drenched on his wreckage, the
master saw again the trim clean ship, the look-
outs at their stations, the gunners standing by
their gun, and felt again the tremendous blow of
the torpedo, striking fifteen feet under water,
and the trembling of the wounded vessel. Then
began the test of his drill and organisation.
Every officer and man went to his boat station ;
all passengers, lifebelts slung upon them, went
as steadily to their boats as the crew. The
engineer reversed engines and stopped the way
of the ship, though the steam was pouring out
of the saloon windows; the wireless operator
174 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
sent out calls and received a reply; the boats
were swung out and safely launched. And all
inside ten minutes.
No master could have achieved more. And
there he was adrift. Where were the boats?
Minute by minute passed and no boat came.
1 ' He saved others . . . ' ' But still the sound of
women's voices, singing, hung in the air. So
soon as they were in the boats, they struck up
that brave chant, to show that all was well and
that nothing dismayed them.
The master, after the manner of British sea-
men, continued to hang on, let come what would
come. Half an hour may be as half a year to
a drowning man. And the remorseless inter-
minable minutes lagged one after another to
nearly thirty ere the master caught the beat of
pars, and beheld the prow of a boat cleaving the
crest of the swell above him.
Once on board the boat the master instantly
took command again. He signalled to the other
boats to come together, and ordered them to pull
eastwards, where a plume of smoke blurred the
horizon.
The steamer was presently observed to be
approaching, and by four o'clock the whole of
the shipwrecked people were on board the hos-
pital ship Letitia. The City of Birmingham had
been torpedoed at 11.15; every soul on board
except the master was clear of her ten minutes
later; at 11.45 she sank, and by four o'clock all
were rescued.
So soon as the people were on board the
Letitia, the master called the roll of the passen-
"A CHEERFUL NOTE" { 175
gers and mustered the crew. He found that
four lives in all had been lost between the time
of the explosion and the pulling away of the
boats. The ship 's doctor, who was an old man ;
the barman, who seems to have been of unstable
temperament, and who fell into the water; and
two Lascars : these were drowned.
Neither the submarine nor the torpedo was
seen.
The master in his report stated that "the
women especially showed a good example by
the way in which they took their places in the
boats, as calmly as if they were going down to
their meals, and when in the boats they began
singing.
So might Andromeda have lifted her golden
voice in praise to the immortal gods, what time
the hero slew the sea-beast that would have
devoured her.
XXHI
Vignette
Theee hundred miles from land, in the
Mediterranean, a merchant service officer
crouched on a raft of wreckage, staring at a
German submarine, which lay within a hundred
yards of him. An English ship's boat, crammed
with men, at some distance from him, was
pulling towards him. The smooth sea was
strewn with broken pieces of the ship, to some
of which men were clinging; and a second boat
was pulling to and fro, picking the men from
the water. It was about half -past five in the
afternoon of November 4th, 1916.
The chief officer, contemplating the enemy
with a curious eye, beheld the long, yellow hull
awash, the circular conning-tower rising amid-
ships, painted a light straw colour, bearing a
black number, indecipherable, and surmounted
by a canvas screen, enclosing the rail. Five or
six men, clad in brown, except one who wore a
white sweater, lined the rail of the conning-
tower, gazing at the destruction they had
wrought. Forward, on the deck, beside the gun,
two German officers were leisurely pointing
176
VIGNETTE 177
cameras upon the shipwrecked men. When they
had taken such photographs as they desired,
they departed. The submarine got under way
and steered to a position where she lay in the
track of steamers shortly due to pass.
The chief officer and the rest of the men were
all taken into the two boats. By that time
darkness was gathering. The chief officer,
knowing that two steamers were coming up
astern, burned red flares to warn them of their
danger. In so doing he risked the vengeance of
the submarine, which must have seen the flares,
and which could have overhauled the boats in a
few minutes, and then sent them to the bottom.
The two boats, overladen with the soaked and
shivering crew, pulled and drifted in the dark
for some nine hours. Early the next morning
they were rescued by the hospital ship Valdavia.
It was at 5.25 upon the previous afternoon
that their ship, the Himtsvale, had been struck
by a torpedo fired from an unseen submarine.
Her stern was blown clean off, and she sank in
two minutes. The master sounded the whistle,
and the wireless operator had just time and no
more to send out one call of distress ere his
dynamo collapsed. The master and six men lost
their lives, seven killed out of forty-nine.
Immediately after the explosion the submarine
rose to the surface and steered towards the scene
of wreckage, while the German officers prepared
their photographic apparatus. Doubtless the
prints were designed for publication in Ger-
many, to illustrate the freedom of the seas.
xxrv
"Leave Her"
"Leave her, Johnny, leave her." — Chcmty.
Early in the morning of June 29th, 1916, the
little ketch Lady of the Lake sailed from an
Irish port for a Welsh port, her deck piled with
pitwood. She sailed on a light wind all that day
and the following night. She was an old boat,
built at Bideford in 1862, and her master, who
was her owner, was older still, numbering more
than seventy sea winters. Sailing with him
were a mate and a boy. By half -past seven on
the morning of June 30th the Lady of the Lake,
a leisurely matron, had strolled about twenty-
five miles from the Irish coast. There sounded
the report of a gun, a shot struck her, and away
on the beam rose a submarine. The submarine
fired again and again on the ketch. The master
decided to leave her, in order, as he said, "to
avoid splinters." He went about on the star-
board tack so that the dinghy could be lowered,
and the three men scrambled into her and pulled
away, while the submarine continued to fire at
the forlorn Lady of the Lake.
Then the submarine ran up alongside the
178
"LEAVE HER" 179
dinghy and the German officer, shouting and
cnrsing, ordered the old seaman, the mate and
the boy, on board the submarine. The sub-
marine, still occasionally firing, drew toward
the ketch, and forced her crew to take in their
dinghy an officer and three men. The men car-
ried bombs. The Germans went on board the
Lady of the Lake, took everything they fancied
out of her, passed the gear into the boat, placed
the bombs below, and lit the fuses. The Ger-
mans were then pulled back to the submarine by
the master, the mate and the boy. The poor
plunder was placed on board the submarine, and
the master, the mate and the boy were cast
adrift in their boat without food or water.
The submarine went away.
The master saw his beloved little vessel go
up into the air with a horrible explosion, and
her fragments litter the sea.
He hoisted an oilskin on an oar as a signal
of distress, but there was no vessel in sight.
So the master, the mate and the boy took to
their oars and pulled for eight hours. They
had made ten miles out of five-and-twenty to-
wards the land when they were picked up by a
patrol boat.
The Germans had destroyed or stolen all the
old man possessed in the world, except his
dinghy and the clothes he wore.
XXV
Fuel of Fire
On the night of December 7th, 1916, in a
broad moonlight, a big oilship, the Conch, was
steaming np Channel. She was bringing 7,000
tons of benzine from a far Eastern port.
Eight miles away, nearer the coast, a patrol
boat was cruising. Her captain was startled by
a bright flame towering upon the night, and
writhing momently higher amid a vast rolling
canopy of smoke, blotting out the stars. The
captain of the patrol boat steered for the fire
at full speed. At eight knots it was an hour or
more ere the captain came in full sight of a
large ship, wrapped in a roaring flame, spouting
burning oil from a rent in her port side, and
steaming faster than the patrol boat. From
the forecastle aft she was all one flame of fire ;
wildly steering herself, she was yawing now to
this side, now to the other; and as she sped,
her wavering track blazed and smoked upon
the heaving water.
The heat smote upon the faces of the men in
the patrol boat as they stared upon the burning
ship. The captain steered nearer to her, and at
180
FUEL OF FIRE 181
the same moment she turned suddenly towards
him, her whole bulk of fire bearing down upon
the patrol boat. The captain put his helm hard
over and turned away; and still she came on,
dreadfully lighting the men's scared faces, re-
vealing every detail of rope and block and
guardrail ;, and then the patrol boat just cleared
her.
The captain stood off to a safe distance and
steamed parallel to the course of the burning
ship, scanning her for any sign of a living
creature, but he could see none, nor did it seem
possible that so much as a rat could be left alive
in that furnace.
After cruising thus for about an hour, and
perceiving the approach of two trawlers, also
on patrol duty, the first patrol boat went about
her business, her captain having made up his
mind that there were no men left alive in the
burning ship.
But there were.
When the watch was changed on board the
Conch at eight o 'clock on the evening before, the
master and the third officer went on the bridge.
During that watch there were two quartermas-
ters at the wheel; a wireless operator and a gun-
ner were posted at the gun, aft, and there was a
look-out man stationed on the forecastle head.
Below, the fourth engineer was on watch, and
the chief engineer was in charge. Two China-
boys were stoking. The rest of the officers
were either in their cabins or on deck, and the
remainder of the crew were in the forecastle,
where they had their quarters.
182 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
About half -past ten the chief engineer was in
his cabin, whence he had been going to the
engine-room from time to time, when he heard
the dull report of an explosion, and simultane-
ously felt a heavy shock. He ran to the engine-
room. Nothing had happened there ; the revolu-
tions still marked ten knots, and the needle of
the telegraph dial still pointed to full speed.
The fourth engineer ran to call the second and
third engineers. Swiftly as he went, the fire
caught him as he dashed into the alleyway, and
he must burst his way through flame and smoke.
He was shockingly burned about the hands and
arms, but he roused the two other engineers,
and all three hurried down to the engine-room,
the whole after part of the ship blazing behind
them. None of the other officers was ever seen
again.
In the engine-room, imprisoned by fire, were
the eight people of the engine-room staff; the
chief engineer, the second, third and fourth
engineers and four Chinamen; eight of the
fifty-six persons in the ship, of whom twelve
were British and the rest Chinese.
From time to time one of the engineers tried
to force his way on deck, and at each attempt
he was beaten back by the flames. Thus they
tried for an hour; and all the while the tele-
graph pointed to full speed and the ship was
steaming at ten knots.
It was about midnight when the second en-
gineer succeeded in reaching the deck. He
sounded the whistle. The others joined him.
The bridge was a burning ruin ; flame and smoke
FUEL OF FIRE 183
streamed up from the forward tanks; burning
oil poured from the hull on the port side, where
mine or torpedo had torn a great hole; of the
four lifeboats no sign was left except the black-
ened and twisted davits. To the eight men it ap-
peared that they must either be burned alive or
go over the side and end the business that way.
Then they remarked the dinghy secured on
chocks on the well deck. Amid the heat and
flame, they hoisted her out and lowered her into
the sea, where she was immediately filled with
water. All the time the ship was steaming ahead
and yawing. The engineers tried to get back to
the engine-room to stop the engines and so stop
the ship ; for with way on the ship the dinghy
was towing astern, and it was most difficult to
embark in her. But the fire now barred the
engineers from the engine-room.
What followed is a little obscure. But it is
clear that the four Chinamen reached the boat
by sliding down the falls, and that the fourth
engineer, attempting to follow them, could not
travel along the ropes with his wounded hands,
so hung midway, unable to go forward or back,
and then dropped into the sea, whence he never
rose again. The fourth engineer had come by
his hurt when he went to call the other two
engineer officers. So he lost his life.
The chief engineer did not see what happened
to the fourth engineer. The Chinamen in the
boat told him of it. Somehow the chief engi-
neer got into the boat, and before the second
and third engineers could board her she came
adrift from the ship.
184 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
The chief engineer and the fonr Chinamen
were in the water-logged boat, and the second
and third engineers were left on board the burn-
ing ship.
The people in the dinghy were not seen by
the patrol boat, which was keeping pace with
the Conch some distance away from her. The
dinghy, obscured by smoke and flame, dropped
swiftly astern. The chief engineer and the
Chinamen kept her afloat by incessant baling;
and after about an hour they sighted a steamer,
rowed desperately, hailed her, and were pres-
ently taken on board.
The steamer pursued the burning ship with
the intention of taking off the second and third
engineers, but she could not approach near
enough. By that time the flames had subsided
upon the after part of the Conch, but she was
still blazing from the bridge forward.
What happened to the second and third en-
gineers left on board the Conch, their last hope
drifting away astern? At some time between
about half -past one in the night of December
7th-8th, when the dinghy went adrift, and three
o'clock, one of the trawlers, which had been
observed by the first patrol boat to be ap-
proaching, manoeuvred under the stern of the
Conch, which was still steaming ahead, and the
commanding officer of the trawler told the two
engineers to jump into the water, whence he
hauled them on board.
Thus, with the sad exception of the fourth
engineer, the engineering staff was saved. So
FUEL OF FIRE 185
far as they knew, when they quitted the burning
ship there were no men left on board.
But there were.
At a quarter to four on that Friday morning,
December 8th, the lieutenant in command of
one of his Majesty's torpedo-boat destroyers,
sighted what he described as "a very large con-
flagration. ' ' Upon approaching the fire he per-
ceived a great vessel burning fiercely from fore-
castle to stern, steaming at about eight knots,
and yawing through some seven points; and
huddled upon the fore-peak, like the eyes of a
tortured creature, a crowd of Chinamen.
The lieutenant considered that to run his de-
stroyer alongside a burning ship under way and
out of control was impracticable. Let us now
regard the seamanship of the Eoyal Navy.
The lieutenant lowered all his boats and ran
past the stern of the Conch, throwing overboard
life-saving rafts, lifebelts and lifebuoys, and
shouting to the men to jump into the water.
He turned, ran past the stern again, turned,
and repeated his action. The Chinamen leaped
into the water and were picked up, all except
nine.
Nine paralysed Chinamen remained invisibly
fettered to the ship, where during some five
hours they had watched the fire steadily eating
its way towards them. It is probable that they
had taken opium. The flames, which had slack-
ened on the after part of the ship, were now
again blazing, the fire having ignited the bunk-
ers, and the Chinamen had but a few minutes
between them and death.
186 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
"I therefore decided," says the young naval
officer who performed the deed, "that it was
necessary to place alongside the ship, and
take off the remainder of the crew. ' '
Then followed a feat of consummate sea-
manship and indomitable courage.
A more hazardous evolution could hardly be
devised. As the burning ship was unmanage-
able and swerving suddenly from side to side, a
collision was almost inevitable, while to go
alongside a pyramid of burning oil was to risk
catching fire and exploding ammunition.
The lieutenant, steaming eight knots, keeping
pace with the Conch, ran right alongside her
windward bow, grappled the riven, red-hot hull,
now burned almost down to the water-line. For
a desperate ten minutes the destroyer was
locked to the burning, overhanging mass, in the
reek and the fierce heat and the dropping flakes
of fire, while the nine wretched Chinamen,
roused from the Chinese lethargy, lowered
themselves one by one from the peak of the tall
vessel to the deck of the destroyer.
Then the lieutenant cast off his destroyer,
"which sustained slight superficial damage to
guardrails and upper deck fittings. ' ' He makes
no other remark of any kind. He was none too
soon, for "ten minutes after cleared the
steamer, the latter was burnt to the water-line
and disappeared ... at 7.23 a.m."
In the meantime, ere the destroyer arrived,
the steamer which had rescued the chief engi-
neer and the four Chinamen had picked out of
the water five more Chinamen, while, as already
FUEL OF FIRE 187
narrated, the patrol trawler had taken on board
the secdnd and third engineers. In addition, the
other patrol trawler had picked up two China-
men. Three British out of twelve, and twenty-
five Chinamen out of forty-four were saved;
thus, out of the whole crew of the Conch, twen-
ty-eight were saved and twenty-eight were lost.
The lieutenant in command of the destroyer
rescued fourteen Chinamen, nine of them at the
imminent hazard of his ship and all on board,
by an act of skill and daring which ranks among
the finest exploits of the Royal Navy.
XXVI
The Pilot's Story
"It is notorious that facts are compatible with opposite
emotional comments, since the same fact will inspire entirely
different feelings in different persons, and at different times
in the same person; and there is no rationally deducible
connection between any outer fact and the sentiments it
may happen to provoke." — William James, Varieties of
Religious Experience.
The long hoot of a steamer's syren sounded
from the river, outside the red-blinded windows
of the bar parlour. There were present the
Widow Chailey, who was the landlady of The
Three Ships inn, the girl Bella, who was the
wife of a soldier and who served the liquor,
and a hulking mass of a man, huddled in an el-
bow chair under the gaslight, his hard hat tilted
over his eyes, his hands clasped on the top of
his stick.
"A steamer calling for a boat to take off the
pilot," said Bella as the syren hooted again.
" Thank Heaven another one's come in safe,
then," said the Widow Chailey piously.
"What do they want to come to this town at
all for, is what I ask?" said the obese man in
the chair, without opening his eyes. "They
188
THE PILOT'S STORY 189
only sleep here. They got no house and pay no
rates. They don't do the town any good."
' i What a thing to say, Mr. Bagwell, ' ' retorted
the widow, placidly scanning the evening paper.
' l 'Ow would we live if it wasn 't for the pilots ? ' '
"I'll have another whisky,' ' said Mr. Bag-
well, after a pause of reflection.
"I think you've had enough," said Bella.
But she brought it. Then she sat down at the
table with a sigh and began to knit.
Silence ; a silence pervaded with the sense of
moving life on the dark river without. Pres-
ently a bell jangled in the entrance hall and
Bella, with another sigh, left the parlour.
Then there entered a tanned, sharp-featured,
bright-eyed man, and dropped a heavy bag un-
der the table.
"Good evening, ma'am. I ain't been here
before, but you'll take me in, I know. I been
putting up at your opposite number's for years
— and then they quarrelled with me. You and
J won 't quarrel, shall us f For I ain 't a quarrel-
ling man by nature, ' ' said the pilot, settling him-
self on the bench against the wall. ' ' Now, then.
One all round, my dear. Whisky's mine."
The somnolent Mr. Bagwell received his liba-
tion in silence. The Widow Chailey took a glass
of port, and Bella sipped a dark liquid which she
said was a tonic. Herein she was wise, for to
have accepted all the liquor offered to her was
impossible.
' ' Cheero, ' ' said the pilot. ' ' Another. I need
it. Another for you, old sport. It'll liven you
up, perhaps." Mr. Bagwell received his glass,
190 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
drank its contents, and shut his eyes again.
"Another," said the pilot. "Now we're all
comfortable. Aren 't us ! ' '
"Had a good passage, I hope," said the widow.
"Mustn't grumble in war-times," said the
pilot. He raised his eyebrows and pointed in-
terrogatively to the moveless Bagwell.
"He's all right," responded the widow tran-
quilly. "Collector of rates. Most respectable
— when he hasn't had a drop too much."
The pilot drank off his potion at a breath.
"Another," he said. "And the same for our
leading citizen here. ' ' His white teeth gleamed,
and his eyes, under sharply narrowing lids,
shone like points of glass, as Bella sat down
beside him.
"What happened, then?" said Bella per-
suasively. ' ' Tell us. ' '
The pilot slipped his arm round the girl's
waist.-
"I'll tell you, my dear," he said. "Thirty-
six hours I been on the bridge before I came off
just now. It's a neutral ship I brought in, so
there's no harm in telling. I boarded her up
north. The captain says, 'I dam glad to see
you,' he says. 'Now I sleep.' He hadn't had
his clothes off for six days and nights, and no
sleep, only cat-naps. His eyes was bloodshot
and he was all bowed together like a old man.
'I dessay you'll wake in Heaven with the rest
of us,' said I, 'and why shouldn't jouV 'I
got wife and children in Stavanger,' he says,
and cripples down to his cabin. I had the
Admiralty instructions, of course^ but there
THE PILOT'S STORY 191
wasn't much consolation in them. But no man
dies before his time. Another, my dear, and one
more all round. ' '
Mr. Bagwell, aroused by the arrival of an-
other drink, appeared to listen.
"Not but what," pursued the pilot medita-
tively, "the further question arises, When is
his time? However, these things don't trouble
us much at sea. A fine clear evening it was when
we left port, and the bells was ringing in the
town, and all the people was walking on the pier.
One of the crew, an Englishman, sits on the
fo'c'sle playing a tune on a penny whistle he
had, and very well he done it. All of a sudden,
up comes the old man from below, his hair all on
end. 'What,' he shouts, stamping in his slip-
pers, 'you haf no more feeling for the ship that
you make music in this danger ! ' The English-
man laughed at him. 'I was only tryin' to get
a little serciety feelin' into the ship,' says he.
'A little cordiality, like.' I told the old man
submarines didn't come for whistlin', and per-
suaded him back to bed.
"Now I tell you," continued the pilot — "an-
pther all round, and thank you, my dear — when-
ever I take charge of a ship, I know I'm in for
a gamble with God Almighty. Before the war,
barring accidents what no one can foresee, I
knew for a certainty I could take the ship in per-
f ec ' safety from port to port. I Ve never had no
accident, not in twenty years, calm or storm, fog
or what not — never one single accident. But
now, what is it? You station a couple of A.B.'s
forward, and a man in the cross-trees, and two
192 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
more hands aft, all a-looking out till their eyes
is bursting out of their heads and they think
every bit of wreckage is a periscope. I seen
'em call up a fireman in the middle of the night
to look overboard, because they thought him
knowing all about machinery could reco'nise a
periscope if he saw it — which, coming up from
the light below to thick darkness, he couldn't see
nothing at all. But what's the use? All the
time you can't see — but you can be seen. And
if it's a mine, it's the same — you can't see it in
the night, or in broken water. And either you
get the ship through or you don't. It's pure
chance. And that, ' ' said the pilot, ' ' is what we
have to contend with. ' 9
" I 'm glad, ' ' Bella remarked, ' * that my boy 's
in Mesopotamia."
"What can it be like, I often wonder?" said
the Widow Chailey placidly.
"Absofo^ely rotten," said the pilot, compre-
hensively. ' ' That same evening, as it was get-
ting dark, and we was feeling our way along —
for there's no lights now — I see a fine big ves-
sel about three miles off, and the next moment
there was a great black burst of smoke, and a
noise like a ton o' coal shot into the hold. I
see the ship break in two amidships and down
she went. Gone!
"What could we do? Nothing. I kept my
course, zig-zagging, all the night ; and twice an-
other ship was right on top of us and I saved
the ship by inches. Could have pushed the other
ship off with my hand, very near. And next
morning, just before the sunrise, when it's all
THE PILOT'S STORY 193
cold and dim, and a man's inside falls to zero,
if you know what I mean, a steamship was pass-
ing us to port, black against the sky, when up
goes the cloud of smoke again, like a clap of
thunder, and down she went, nose first, inside
three minutes. Two ! It might have been us,
but it just wasn't. And that evening, down
went a vessel not a mile ahead of us. Three!
Three in one trip.
"The captain was shot up on deck out of his
ship after every explosion just as if he'd been
exploded himself, and last of all he says, 'It is
enough. I not go to sea never again.' But of
course he will. Where else can he go? After
that third poor ship was put down I was glad
enough to think we should be in port in three or
four hours. But we was ten minutes late of
Admiralty closing time, and had to cruise up
and down all night long. That was the worst
of all.
"For a man," continued the pilot, "sets him-
self to last a certain time like a chronometer,
and when that time's exceeded, he 'as to wind
himself up all over again. Drink would do it,
but I never touch liquor on duty. . . . Another,
miss, and one more all round, and then I'm for
bed. What cheer, old sport? Got something
on your mind, have you?"
Mr. Bagwell, thus addressed, drank his liquor,
and regarded the pilot with a vindictive eye.
"Yes, I have," said Mr. BagweU. "And 111
tell you what it is, straight. You're no better
than a thief, you are. You're a pernicious
water-rat. You're a ruddy interloper in this
194 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
town. You come and you go, and you pay no
rates and you're a flagrant disgrace. One of
these days you'll get it in the neck, so I warn
you. In the neck. And serve you damn well
right."
The pilot surveyed his accuser with a cheer-
ful smile.
"I don't know what I done to you, old friend,
excep' hand you out one now and again," said
the pilot, blandly.
Then Mr. Bagwell laboriously repeated his
words, as though they were a lesson he had
learned by heart.
" 'Ow can you say such things, and him
bringing food into the country and risking his
life?" said the Widow Chailey, mildly re-
proachful.
" Now look here," said the pilot, still immov-
ably serene, ' ' answer me this one question. Do
you know what you're a-saying? Or do you
not?"
Mr. Bagwell ^appeared to be earnestly inter-
rogating his consciousness.
"No, I do not," he said finally.
The pilot smiled upon him in silence.
"You'd better be going home," said the
widow firmly.
Mr. Bagwell rose without a word, and lum-
bered out of the room and out of the house.
"Such a pity," said the Widow Chailey; "he
always gets abusive when he 'as a drop of drink
in him.
"Some of the customers don't like it," said
the widow.
xxvn
Three Prisoners
The Austrian submarine which had just
torpedoed and sunk the steamship Andoni
drew alongside the boat in which were the mas-
ter and a party of the crew of the Andoni. The
two officers on the conning-tower looked down
upon their victims. The commanding officer of
the submarine was slight of figure and bearded ;
the lieutenant of fair complexion and clean
shaven. A group of men, clad in slate-coloured
dress, stood on the deck, aft of the conning-
tower.
The lieutenant asked the master if he had any
papers, to which the master replied "No."
"Come on board," said the lieutenant. "You
are a prisoner of war. We are friends no
longer."
To torpedo a man's ship, which so far had
been the extent of the commerce between the
Austrian officers and the master of the Andoni,
was a singular exhibition of friendship. So the
master may have thought as he stepped on
board the enemy and disappeared below.
The lieutenant produced two letters, and
gave them to the second officer in the boat,
195
196 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
requesting him to post them. The second officer,
reading the addresses on the envelope, perceived
to his surprise that they were addressed in
English handwriting to persons in England. He
did not know then what was afterwards dis-
covered, that the letters were written respec-
tively by two British masters who were already
immured in the submarine. That was the only
sign of their existence: two letters dumbly
appearing from the belly of the enemy. The
master of the Andoni, on going below, found
two friends to make up for the loss of the friend-
ship of the Austrians. The submarine departed,
carrying the three British prisoners — whither?
The Andoni was torpedoed in the Mediter-
ranean, about fifty miles from Malta, at 7.35
on the morning of January 8th, 1917. She sank
in twelve minutes. A gun-layer and two col-
oured firemen were killed. At half -past five the
same evening the rest of the crew were picked
up by a patrol vessel.
The first of the British masters to be captured
by the Austrian submarine was the master of
the Lesbian. He made a running fight of it.
That was on Friday, January 5th, 1917. About
half -past three in the afternoon, when the Les-
bian was steaming at ten knots on a zig-zag
course, the submarine emerged some three miles
astern and opened fire.
The master instantly ordered the gunners to
reply, and their second shot fell close to the
submarine, which thereupon dropped further
astern, to a position from which she could out-
range the gun of the Lesbian.
THREE PRISONERS 197
The master, although he was outranged, tried
to confuse and blind the submarine gunner by
maintaining a rapid fire, but the shells of the
enemy continued to fall all about the Lesbian
and one pierced her stern. Thus the chase
went on; the Lesbian, strung to full speed,
running in a hail of shells, wreathed in smoke,
fountains of water leaping alongside her, dis-
tress signal-rockets rushing upwards and burn-
ing ; and far astern the low grey conning-tower
of the hunter came ploughing behind on a white
bow- wave, with tongues of fire and smoke blown
behind her and drifting over the bright sea,
At a few minutes past four, the action having
lasted nearly three-quarters of an hour, the
master, seeing that his ammunition was nearly
exhausted, hoisted the signal of surrender,
stopped the ship, and ordered the crew into the
boats.
The rapidly approaching submarine con-
tinued to fire, while the crew were getting away
the two lifeboats and the cutter. The shells
struck the ship, several among the crew were
wounded, and the master was hurt in the head
and leg. A shell struck the water close to one
of the boats and made it leak. As the boats
cleared the ship, she listed to port and began to
settle down by the stern.
The submarine drew alongside the boat in
which was the master, and the commanding
officer ordered him aboard. The submarine then
ordered the boats "to clear out."
"What about the master?" said the chief
officer.
198 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
"He is stopping here. Yon clear out," re-
turned the Austrian, and proceeded to lay his
submarine alongside the abandoned and slowly
sinking ship. That was the last the men in the
boats saw of the submarine — the shark side by
side with the dying whale.
The three boats were left 120 miles from
Malta. The chief officer divided the crew of the
cutter between the two lifeboats and abandoned
the cutter.
In one boat were the chief officer and a crew
of seventeen, and in the other boat were the
second officer and a crew of seventeen. Both
boats hoisted sail and steered for Malta. It was
then about five in the afternoon, the dark falling
on a smooth sea, with a favourable breeze
blowing from the south-east.
The two boats sailed in company all that
night; but the next morning each was lost to
sight of the other in the haze.
The chief officer held on all that day, January
6th, and all that night. The next morning the
wind shifted to the north-west, dead ahead on
the course the chief officer was steering, and he
decided to go about and run for the Greek coast.
They had already been sailing in an open
boat for two nights and a day. The boat was
provisioned with meat, biscuits and water, but
no one knew for how long the stock would be
required.
Then began a dreadful voyage of shifting
winds, heavy seas, and deadly cold. Concerning
its incidents, the chief officer is silent, mention-
ing only that, although several ships were sight-
THREE PRISONERS 199
ed, none answered their signals. But we know
that he and his men endured for ten more days
and ten more nights ; and at noon on January
17th they fetched up in a Greek port. By that
time all the meat was gone, and there were only
a few biscuits and a little water left. All were
greatly exhausted and some suffered from swol-
len feet.
The Greek peasants took them in and did
what they could for the castaways, until the
French authorities conveyed them to hospital.
In a fortnight all save three were fit to travel.
In the meantime the second officer had better
luck. He landed on the coast of Sicily on the
7th, after sailing two nights and the better part
of two days.
"When the boats of the Lesbian had been two
nights and a day at sea the Austrian submarine,
with the master of the Lesbian on board, was
cruising not far from them.
On the afternoon of January 7th, the subma-
rine sighted the steamship Mohacs field and
opened fire upon her. The Mohacsfield, retreat-
ing at full speed, returned the fire, and the chase
continued for an hour.
It was the usual story. The Mohacsfield was
outranged and outpaced; she was hit, and the
second officer and the steward were killed ; the
mate and a fireman were wounded, and then the
master was compelled to abandon ship.
The submarine took the master on board as
prisoner of war; and thus the master of the
Lesbian and the master of the Mohacsfield made
acquaintance and exchanged narratives; and
200 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
perhaps one quoted to the other the words of
the wild Hungarian song: "But no matter,
more was lost on Mohacsfield"; and perhaps
not. The Mohacsfield was sunk by a torpedo.
The next day, January 8th, as already re-
lated, the master of the Andoni joined the
party ; and it was then that the two masters al-
ready on board prevailed on the Austrian officer
to send their letters home ; the two letters which
were handed out from the depths of the subma-
rine to the second officer of the Andoni. The
rest, so far, is silence.
The master of the Andoni had lost his ship by
a torpedo fired from the submarine invisible
beneath the surface. The masters of the Les-
bian and the Mohacsfield had fought their ships
to the last moment. Now all three were
prisoners.
xxvin
Hide-and-Seek in the Bay
Off the Spanish coast on January 23rd, 1917,
the steamship Jevington was steering east, in
misty, squally weather, the sea running in the
long, mountainous swell of the Bay of Biscay.
At two o'clock in the afternoon the master,
going on the bridge, perceived a small steamer
about five miles away, steering south. Through
the mist the master was unable to decipher her
ensign or the name and colours painted on her
side. Presently the strange vessel was blotted
out by the driving rain.
A little after, the master sighted a fishing
vessel, with two lug-sails, steering northwards
as though she had just parted company from
the strange steamship. Watching her, the mas-
ter saw her alter course, as if to cross the bows
of the Jevington; and then, in her turn, she
vanished in a rain-squall. When the squall had
passed the ring of haze closing in the Jevington
had narrowed, and there was nothing to be seen
on all the high, broken surges of the swell.
It was about an hour and a half after the
strange steamship had been sighted, when the
master and the second mate, who were both on
201
202 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
the bridge, exclaimed at the same moment,
" There's a submarine !' '
About 200 yards away on the port bow the
periscope was projected above the surface, fol-
lowed by the top of the conning-tower. The
next moment the ship was struck. There was
an explosion on the port side ; the hatches of the
hold were blown in fragments into the air; the
derrick leaped twelve feet upwards and crashed
down on deck by the starboard rail, and the
water spouted up through the hold, flooding
the deck.
The master instantly ordered the engines to
be reversed to stop the way of the ship, and
ordered all hands into the boats. While they
were getting away he burned his confidential
papers in the galley stove.
In spite of the heavy run of sea, the boats
were safely launched, and they pulled hard from
the ship for about a quarter of a mile. Then
they lay on their oars and watched the subma-
rine nosing round the water-logged ship. The
submarine had hoisted the German ensign, and
presently approached the two boats. The chief
officer pulled to meet her.
The commanding officer of the submarine
hailed the chief officer, asking him what he
wanted. The chief officer replied that he
wanted to return to the Jevington to fetch dry
clothing. The submarine officer refused to
grant the request. It was, he said, too risky to
return to the ship.
He laid the submarine alongside the chief
officer's boat, and the chief officer noted that
HIDE-AND-SEEK IN THE BAY 203
the German commander was a small man, clean
shaven, and that the lieutenant standing beside
him on the conning-tower was of the larger,
fair-complexioned German type. Some twelve
men were on the deck of the submarine. Officers
and men alike were dressed in dark green jack-
ets and oilskin trousers, the officers having
uniform caps.
The little German captain caused six suits of
good clothing to be handed out to the chief offi-
cer. Then he asked for the captain, who was in
the other boat, ordered the chief officer to cruise
about where he was, telling him that another
vessel would come to pick him up, and went
away to the master's boat.
The chief officer, sighting the strange steamer
which had passed southward earlier in the
afternoon, and which was now approaching at a
distance of about four miles, pulled towards
her, and he and his crew were taken on board.
She was a Norwegian vessel, the Donstad,
which had been captured early in the morning,
and which was impressed by the submarine
officer to serve as his consort. On board was a
German prize crew of six men under the com-
mand of an officer.
In the meantime the submarine officer, draw-
ing alongside the master's boat, ordered him to
come on board. Being requested to produce his
papers, the master gave the German the Jeving-
ton's bills of lading, ship's register, and French
bill of health — for what they were worth, which
was not much.
The submarine officer ordered the master to
204 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
return to his boat, and when he was in it again
the little German captain photographed his
captives. He then ordered them to remain
where they were, and told them, as he had told
the chief officer, that he would send a vessel to
pick them up.
The submarine got under way and de-
parted, and the master's boat tossed in the
thickening darkness for an hour or more, when
the people in the boat observed the lights of
two steamers, one to the north and the other
to the north-west.
They saw a gun-flash near by the vessel to
the north-west. The master of the Jevington
decided to pull towards the other steamer. As
he drew near he recognised her to be the
strange vessel he had sighted early in the after-
noon. She was the Donstad, which had already
picked up the chief officer 's boat, and which now
took the master and his boat's crew on board.
The Jevington's people were searched by the
German guard, who robbed the second engineer
of money and trinkets. That petty larceny
shows how the German sailor is foreign to the
tradition of the sea.
The submarine having collected the steamer
at which she had fired, brought her close to the
Donstad. She was the Leonora, a Spaniard.
The submarine officer now ordered the German
officer in command of the Donstad to send to
him the master of the Jevington.
At this time, between seven and eight of a
dark and stormy night, the submarine, burning
side-lights, and the two captured neutral
HIDE-AND-SEEK IN THE BAY 205
steamers, Donstad and Leonora, with all lights
burning, lay stopped and near to one another;
and a little way off, hidden in the darkness, the
Jevington rolled deserted, her decks awash.
The master of the Jevington was pulled
across to the submarine by two of his own men
and a German sailor. When the master was on
board the submarine, the submarine officer had
two bombs placed in the boat, and the men
rowed her across to the Jevington. The master
did not see his ship sunk, but he was told that
she had been destroyed.
The submarine officer informed the master
that he had captured the Spanish steamship
expressly for the purpose of taking the other
officers and the men of the Jevmgton to Liver-
pool, and that the master himself was to be sent
to Germany. He had orders, he said, that all
British masters captured should be brought to
Germany. For the time being, the master
was to remain on the Donstad.
Then the master, with this agreeable prospect
in his mind, was sent back to the Donstad; and
his state was not improved by a painful accident
which befell him. Climbing up the side of the
Donstad, the escape of water from a steam
heater scalded his leg.
The rest of the Jevington* s people were now
transhipped from the Donstad to the Leonora
in four trips. They were all on board by ten
o'clock, and all the time the two steamers and
the submarine lay with lights burning.
The master, with a scalded leg, was left in the
Donstad. As for the rest of the officers and the
206 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
men of the Jevington, they were punctually and
safely landed at Liverpool on January 27th,
as the submarine officer had said.
During the next few days the master of the
Jevington watched the operations of the sub-
marine and her consort the Donstad cruising
about the Bay, waiting for ships. The Donstad
from time to time received her course from the
submarine, and the two vessels were in constant
communication by signal in the daytime and by
Morse lamp at night. The Donstad carried all
lights at night. The next day, January 24th,
a gale blew up from the south with a rising sea.
The master was allowed on the bridge, and was
even welcomed in the chart-house, where he
was shown the varying course and position of
the Donstad, sent hither and thither by the
submarine. He was profoundly interested in
the submarine's behaviour in heavy weather.
" Although a very heavy S.S.W. sea was
running," he reports, "she kept above water,
and appeared quite steady, and no water
breaking over her turret. • '
This happy family party continued until the
27th, when the submarine ordered all the people
in the Donstad to come on board at daylight.
The master went with the crew of the Donstad
in her boats. The German prize crew followed,
with provisions and plunder, having first ig-
nited the fuses of the bombs, which presently
exploded, sinking the Donstad.
The master reported himself sick to the
commanding officer of the submarine. He said
his leg was very bad, and might he lie down?
HIDE-AND-SEEK IN THE BAY 207
The little German captain sent the master below,
and gave instructions that his wound was to be
dressed and that he was to be given a berth, an
order which involved the deprivation of his
berth of another officer.
So the master lay in the German's bunk, with
a pain in his leg and a pain in his mind, as he
contemplated the prospect of a voyage in the
submarine with a prison at the end of it.
His fine ship was gone, his crew vanished.
His possessions had gone down with the ship.
As a man stricken with sickness remembers
what he was in health, and marvels how happy
he has been without knowing it, so the master
recalled the voyage. He had been anxious, but
day after day had gone by, and he had come
through, till he was within three or four days
of home. He traversed every incident of that
misty day of wind and squalls; the apparition
of the steamer steering south, the little sailing
craft which stole from behind her, and which he
now knew to have been a submarine ; the inter-
val during which all seemed well ; then the peri-
scope terribly shooting up ahead, and the blow
of the torpedo, which told him that all was over,
while his head yet rung with the noise of the
explosion. . . . Ought he to have done this?
Ought he to have done that? Why did he not
think of the other? Then came the wet and
cheerless tossing in the boats, under the per-
emptory orders of the German officer; his
tedious days of suspense on board the German
prize, with the added worry of his wounded leg ;
and now he lay captive in this fetid cell, the
208 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
remorseless clashing of the engines in his ears.
He might be there for two or three weeks, for
the submarine, instead of risking the Channel,
might go home north about Scotland and down
the North Sea to a German port. And, also,
she might be sunk on the way by a British ship
of war.
Truly it seemed to the master that he had
been brought very low. And, like a number of
other people, he was furious with some person
or persons unknown, by whose fault or default
these things had befallen him. ... He did not
know, then, any more than you, the reader (if
you have been playing fair), that his story was
to have a happy ending.
At three o'clock in the afternoon someone
told him that a steamer was in sight, and half
an hour later the submarine submerged. The
master, from his bunk, watched the German
officer peering into the mirror of the periscope,
which he swung on its pivot by two handles
fixed at about the level of his eyes. The German,
having read the name of the unconscious vessel,
which was the Fulton, of Bergen, and had the
Norwegian flag blazoned on her side, called the
master of the Donstad to the periscope to find
if he knew this ship of his own country.
The master of the Donstad seems to have
satisfied the Germans that the ship was of Nor-
way, and that she carried no gun, for the sub-
marine came to the surface astern of the Fulton,
and sounded the syren as a signal she was to
stop. The ship stopped accordingly. The mas-
ter lay in his bunk while the Germans ascended
to the deck and descended again, and there was
HIDE-AND-SEEK IN THE BAY 209
coming and going, and an armed party quitted
the submarine.
The commanding officer of the submarine
took possession of the Fulton, sending a prize
crew on board.
Then the master was suddenly ordered on
deck, together with the master and crew of the
Donstad. The master was informed by the
commanding officer of the submarine that
although his orders were to take all captured
British masters to Germany, as it had been
reported to him that the master was suffering
from a wounded leg, the master would be sent
on shore with the crew of the Donstad. So that
when the engineer of the Donstad permitted a
leak in his heating apparatus, he was uncon-
sciously serving as a wedge in the hand of des-
tiny, which presently drove the master of the
Jevmgton apart from captivity and prison. The
commanding officer of the submarine may re-
ceive all due credit for compassion. It is also
the case that a sick man, especially if he occu-
pies an officer's berth, is very inconvenient in a
submarine.
On January 27th, the day on which the crew
of the Jevmgton were landed at Liverpool by
the Leonora, the master of the Jevington was
landed from the lifeboat of the Fulton, another
neutral ship, at a Spanish port. The crew of
the Fulton and the crew of the Donstad were
landed at the same time. The Fulton herself,
manned by the German prize crew, proceeded
to sea. So far as Norway is concerned, her
mercantile marine might as well be owned by
Germany.
XXIX
But Nine op Her Crew Alive' '
on the morning of January
27th, 1917, in very dirty weather, in the North
Atlantic. One of his Majesty's patrol boats
righting out a full easterly gale with a breaking
sea, smothered in water, violently flung to and
fro. To the lieutenant-commander, E.N.E.,
comes a messenger with a signal pad, on which
is neatly written an intercepted wireless S.O.S.
call: "S.S. Artist sinking rapidly, mined or tor-
pedoed in " then followed her position.
The lieutenant-commander replied by wireless
that he was proceeding to her assistance. No
answer came, then or afterwards. The lieuten-
ant-commander increased his speed up to the
limit the boat could stand in that sea, and
steered for the spot indicated. He shoved
along for two hours ; then, as the vessel was be-
ing strained and the engines were racing, he re-
duced speed ; an hour later he was obliged again
to reduce speed. At half -past one he arrived at
the position indicated. There was nothing but
the boiling waste of waters.
210
"BUT NINE OF HER CREW ALIVE" 211
The lieutenant-commander cruised twelve
miles in one direction and twelve miles in
another; the wind increasing, the sea rising
higher, the cold very bitter.
At three o'clock in the afternoon the lieu-
tenant-commander was obliged to heave-to. He
did not think that in such weather the boats of
the sinking ship could have been launched, or if
they were launched, that they could live. That
night it blew harder than ever, and the ther-
mometer fell to 37 degrees. At nine o'clock
the next morning the lieutenant-commander
went to succour another ship in distress, and so
passes out of this story.
He was right and wrong in his surmise. A
little after the lieutenant-commander had re-
ceived the S.O.S. call from the Artist, the boats
had been launched from her, and one lived.
While the lieutenant-commander, the same
afternoon, was beating to and fro in the raging
sea and icy spindrift, there was a boat with its
miserable crew somewhere near.
It was between eight and nine on that Satur-
day morning, January 27th, 1917, when the
Artist's wireless operator sent out his call. The
Artist, sailing from an American port, had run
right into the gale ; and she had been hove-to for
three nights and two days. Between eight and
nine in the morning, without a sign of a subma-
rine, the dull boom of an explosion roared
through the tumult of the gale, and a torpedo,
striking the starboard side forward, tore a huge
hole close upon the water-line.
There was not a moment to lose. The violent
212 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
pitching of the ship, lying head to sea, omi-
nously slackened as she began to settle by the
head. The sea ponred over her bows and swept
the decks from stem to stern. Waist-deep in
water, the crew struggled desperately to lower
the three lifeboats. In one boat were the master
with the second and third officers and part of the
crew ; in another were the chief officer and part
of the crew ; and in the third were a cadet and
part of the crew. What followed is taken from
the cadet's narrative.
He was in his boat, which was swung out on
the falls, and he saw the chief officer's boat, also
swung out, dashed against the ship's side as
she rolled, and broken. The next moment the
cadet's boat was borne upwards by a rising
wave, so that the after fall was pushed upwards
and thus unhooked. As the boat was left hang-
ing by the bows her stern dropped suddenly.
Two men were flung overboard and sank at
once. The next wave bodily lifting the boat on
an even keel, enabled the cadet to unhook the
foremost fall, and the men, pulling hard, got
clear of the ship.
As he pulled clear, the cadet saw the chief
officer's boat filled with water to the gun-
wale, broadside on to the tremendous sea, and
helpless. She was never seen again.
In the meanwhile the master's boat had also
pulled clear of the sinking ship. Both boats laid
out sea anchors and drifted in sight of each
other all that terrible day.
There were forty-five persons in all on board
the Artist when she was torpedoed. Some had
"BUT NINE OF HER CREW ALIVE" 213
gone down in the chief officer's boat, some were
in the captain's boat, and in the cadet's boat
were sixteen persons.
That night, the night of January 27th, as the
lieutenant-commander stated, the gale increased
in violence and the thermometer dropped to 37
degrees. Somehow, the frozen, wet, exhausted
men must keep baling out the boat, and her head
to the sea. Concerning the horrors of that
night the cadet says nothing. It is possible that
the partial paralysis of the faculties, induced by
long exposure, dulls the memory. There is no
consciousness of time, but a quite hopeless con-
viction of eternity. The state of men enduring
prolonged and intense hardship seems to them
to have had no beginning and to have no end.
After a period of acute suffering, varying ac-
cording to the individual, the edge of pain is
blunted and numbness sets in. In many cases
the retardation of the circulation, withdrawing
the full supply of blood to the head, causes de-
lirium, in which men shout and babble, drink
salt water, and leap overboard. By degrees the
heart's action is weakened, and finally stops.
Then the man dies. Seven men in the cadet's
boat did in fact die.
After the night of the 27th the captain's boat
was no more seen. The cadet and his crew
alone were left of the people of the Artist.
They drifted in the gale all that Sunday, the
28th, all Monday, all Monday night. Men died,
one after another, and the pitiless sea received
their bodies. When each one passed the cadet
214 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
does not state. Probably lie could not remem-
ber. For the survivors were dying, too. They
were dying upwards from their feet, in which
frostbite had set in. One man, a fireman, en-
dured the agony of a broken arm. . . .
On the night of January 29th-30th, when
the castaways had been adrift for three days
and three nights, they saw the distant lights of
land towards the north. The wind and sea
began to go down, and at daylight the crew
hoisted sail and steered north. At a little after
nine on that Tuesday morning, exactly seventy-
two hours since they had cleared the sinking
ship, they sighted the smoke of an outward-
bound steamer. Twenty minutes later nine men
were taken on board, and one dead man was left
in the boat.
The rescued men were transferred to a patrol
boat, which landed them in an Irish port the
same evening. Here, says the cadet, "the
Shipwrecked Mariners' authorities took care
of us and did all they possibly could for us. ' '
Five of the nine survivors were placed in
hospital. The remaining four, of whom the
sturdy cadet was one, speedily recovered.
The boat with the dead man in her was picked
up by a patrol vessel.
A brief official account of the affair was pub-
lished at the time by the Secretary of the Ad-
miralty, who remarked that ' ' The pledge given
by Germany to the United States not to sink
merchant ships without ensuring the safety of
the passengers and crews has been broken be-
"BUT NINE OF HER CREW ALIVE" 215
fore, but never in circumstances of more cold-
blooded brutality. ' '
But when it comes to brutality the Germans
can do better than that, as will be seen. What's
the use of talking?
XXX
Dead Men's Luck
On the evening of Sunday, February 4th,
1917, the steamship Dauntless was in the north-
ern part of the Bay of Biscay, outward bound
with a cargo of coal. At six o 'clock the master
and the second officer were on the bridge, keep-
ing a vigilant watch in the clear darkness, whit-
ened by the foam of a heaving sea, There was
nothing in sight, when there came the report of
a gun, and a shell sang over the bridge, and then
another. One passed through the funnel, the
other smashed the steering-gear, so that when
the master tried to put the helm over it jammed,
and the Dauntless went straight on. The man
at the wheel was wounded in the leg. The mas-
ter was wounded in the right shoulder and left
arm. Projectiles whistled from out the dark-
ness. The ship was hit and a fireman was killed.
The master stopped the ship and blew four
blasts on the whistle, signifying that the ship
was being abandoned. The invisible submarine
continued to fire. The two lifeboats were got
away under shell fire and rifle fire. Two men,
one on either side the second officer, were
wounded as they were embarking in the star-
216
DEAD MEN'S LUCK 217
board lifeboat. The chief officer seems to have
been in command of the port lifeboat, but there
is a doubt on this point. For the moment the
port lifeboat disappears, for her crew rowed
away and were no more seen by the people in
the master's boat. It is necessary to be par-
ticular about the boats, as will appear. We have
now to do with the starboard lifeboat, in which
were the master and seventeen others. One
dead man was left in the ship. The master and
three men were wounded.
It was then about half -past six. The sub-
marine hove into view and drew alongside the
master's boat. She bore the marks of usage
and her gun was rusty. Officers and men wore
blue uniform. The commanding officer ordered
the master and the crew on board the subma-
rine. Then the submarine officer asked the
master if there was anyone left in the Dauntless.
Upon being told that the ship was deserted, save
for one dead man, the German officer ordered
some of his men to go on board her in the mas-
ter's boat. He presented a revolver at the mas-
ter's head, telling him that if anyone was found
alive in the Dauntless the master would imme-
diately be shot.
What the Germans were after was plunder.
The men of the Dauntless, sullenly grouped
upon the deck of the submarine, during an hour
or so contemplated the pirates bringing loot
from the Dauntless to the submarine in the
Dauntless 's jolly-boat, which had been left on
board, and the starboard lifeboat. The second
officer saw tinned provisions, enamel paint and
218 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
turpentine, among other things, handed up from
the boats.
At about eight o'clock, when the boats were
emptied, the men of the Dauntless, gazing at the
dim ship looming on the dark, saw a red flash
leap from her, and heard a dull explosion, and
the dim ship disappeared.
The submarine officer ordered the master and
the crew of the Dauntless into the starboard
lifeboat. But when the master represented that
the lifeboat had been damaged by gunfire and
was leaking, the German kindly allowed the
master to take the jolly-boat also. The master
divided the crew between the two boats. In the
jolly-boat were the master, the second officer,
the chief, second and third engineers, the stew-
ard and a fireman; seven persons in all. The
rest went away in the leaking starboard life-
boat, which soon afterwards parted from the
master's boat, and was never seen again.
Already the port lifeboat had gone away;
but her story is to come. With the starboard
lifeboat we have no more to do. There remains
the jolly-boat.
As she parted from the submarine the master
asked a German if the land was five miles away,
and the German replied "More." There is
indeed some uncertainty as to the exact position
from which the boats started, as there was an
increasing easterly wind, and also the drift of
the current in those waters.
It is not known if there were provisions in
the starboard lifeboat which went away and
was no more seen. But it is quite certain that
DEAD MEN'S LUCK 219
the Germans, having stolen all the provisions
they conld find in the Dauntless, sent the seven
people adrift in the jolly-boat without food or
water, in rough weather, and one of them, the
master, badly wounded.
The master, despite the shrapnel bullets he
carried in his left arm and shoulder, steered;
the other six men rowed, and went on rowing.
The wind and sea had risen, and were dead
against the easterly course steered by the
master; the cold was extreme, with occasional
storms of snow. They rowed all that night. At
about six o'clock the next morning the steward
fell forward, dead.
They went on rowing all that day, Monday,
without bite or sup; cold, wet, tormented by
thirst, their tongues swelling, their lips black,
their skin cracking with the salt spray and the
bitter wind; still the five men rowed, and the
dead man lay in the bottom of the boat, and the
master steered. In the evening they committed
the body of the steward to the deep. Then they
sighted land. It was near nightfall; a thick
shower of snow drove down and they lost the
lie of the land, though it was no more than three
or four miles away.
They rowed all that night. At daylight, next
morning, Tuesday, February 6th, they sighted
land again, and so they went on rowing. They
saw the breakers bursting all along the beach;
but, wholly spent, they could do no more than
keep the boat just moving; and as her nose
touched ground a wave capsized her, and the six
men were flung into the surf.
220 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
They struggled up on the beach and fell down.
Two of them, the second engineer and the fire-
man, then and there died on the wet sand where
they lay.
About half -past ten on that Tuesday morning
a French coastguardsman, fully armed, was
marching his lonely beat along the shore, when
he saw four bowed figures stumbling towards
him in the distance. A little beyond them a
capsized boat was tossing in the surf.
The Frenchman, with admirable presence of
mind, immediately decided that four German
sailors had landed. He drew his revolver, and,
swiftly approaching the strangers, commanded
them to put up their hands. Three of them
stiffly lifted swollen hands ; the fourth tried to
lift his arms a little. They stared upon him
with faces like the faces of men in torment, and
one began to speak, uttering strange sounds,
thickly and slowly, framing the same words
over and over again, with a kind of pitiful des-
peration.
And presently the French coastguardsman
saw light. Ah, what a change ! And there was
his little house, where the English could rest
until they were taken away by the authorities to
hospital.
Ten days later, the master had so far recov-
ered that he was able to leave his bed, and the
second officer, the chief engineer and the third
engineer were at home in England.
When the six men in the jolly-boat
reached land they had been adrift during nearly
forty hours. That was on Tuesday, February
DEAD MEN'S LUCK 221
6th. Where, during that time, was the port
lifeboat! No one knew. All that the survivors
in the jolly-boat knew was that when the boats
were lowered from the Dauntless, the port life-
boat had gone away with four (or five) men in
her.
The Dauntless was abandoned on Sunday
evening, February 4th. On the following Fri-
day, the 9th, a Spanish trawler, cruising in the
Bay of Biscay, sighted a boat tossing in the dis-
tance. There were men in her, but whether
dead or alive the Spaniard could not discern.
Coming alongside, the Spanish sailors looked
down upon four men huddled together. Their
eyes moved. Otherwise they were dead.
During five days and five nights they had
been adrift on the winter sea. They had a little
biscuit. They had no water. There were the
two seaman gunners, the cook and a negro. The
Spaniards landed them and they were placed in
hospital.
After three months in hospital one of the
gunners came home and made his report, which
begins: "I was the gun's crew of the Daunt-
less," and goes on to describe his experiences in
the boat in two, sentences : " We drifted about in
the Bay for five days. We had biscuits but no
water. ' '
These four men in the port lifeboat, and the
master and the three officers in the jolly-boat
survived out of the twenty-three people of the
Dauntless.
XXXI
Firing on the Boats
Said the third officer to the quartermaster,
who was at the wheel, " James" — but that was
not his name — " James," said the third officer,
"I think there is a submarine on our starboard
bow."
The quartermaster's subsequent impressions
were extremely crowded. The dusk of the late
afternoon was thickening the easterly haze;
and, staring across the long, smooth swell, the
quartermaster discerned the dark conning-
tower and lighter hull of a submarine some two
and a half miles away, and the indistinct figures
of two officers on the conning-tower, and three
or four men grouped on the deck. At the same
time he was aware that the third officer was
speaking to the captain down the voice-tube.
Then a gun spoke on the submarine and a shell
went by in the air. The master arrived on the
bridge. So did the chief officer. The master
turned the engine-room telegraph to stop, blew
on the whistle the four short blasts signifying
"Abandon ship," and ordered the boats to be
222
FIRING ON THE BOATS 228
swung out and manned. All these things hap-
pened very quickly. The quartermaster having
run to his boat, saw a shell burst in the wheel-
house which he had just quitted.
In the meantime the master on the bridge saw
the submarine sink and disappear. Watching,
he saw her emerge again on the port side. She
opened fire again. The master went to his
cabin, possibly to fetch his confidential papers.
The starboard lifeboat, which was the master's
boat, had pulled clear of the ship.
The port lifeboat was being lowered. The
submarine continued deliberately to fire. It
is one of the clearest cases on record of a Ger-
man submarine officer continuing to fire upon a
ship after she had surrendered and while the
crew were getting away the boats. The boat-
swain and three men were severely wounded by
shell splinters. A shell exploded in the fiddley
(or deck-house), setting the bunkers on fire.
Paraffin oil was pouring from the stricken ship,
slowly spreading a viscous surface upon the
heaving waters.
The master came on deck to find his own boat
gone, and the chief officer's boat waiting for
him, blood all about, five men huddled and help-
less, splinters flying, and, standing off in the
twilight, the sea-wolves at their murderous
work.
That night the boatswain died of his wounds
and was buried at sea.
It was February 7th, 1917, when the steam-
ship Saxonicm was attacked, and the crew sent
adrift in open boats in the North Atlantic.
224 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
(Further south, the port lifeboat of the Dcwnt-
less was even then drifting with four starving
wretches in her.)
The chief officer's boat was picked up the
next morning by a patrol vessel. The second
officer's boat drifted for three days and three
nights, when she was picked up by one of his
Majesty's ships. (That was on the 10th, the
day after the Dauntless' survivors had been res-
cued by the Spanish fishermen.)
The patrol boat which found the chief officer
and his people steamed to the scene of the cap-
ture, and there beheld a sullenly undulating
field of oil, strewn with floating wreckage, the
remains of the Saxonian.
XXXII
The Slavers
The story of the Gravina is told by one man,
a Spaniard, who escaped. He told the story in
a Scottish port, nearly three months after the
Gravina was lost. He came to the port in a
British ship, in which he was serving as fire-
man; and you can conceive the rough figure,
with its swarthy and hard features and dark
eyes, clad in stained seafaring clothes, telling
his adventures with point and freedom. There
is indeed in his narrative a certain vividness of
detail usually absent in the records of British
seamen.
The Spaniard was donkeyman in the steam-
ship Gravina, which was bound from a Spanish
port to London with a cargo of oranges. It was
on that fatal February 7th, 1917, when the Sax-
onian was put down, and the four men of the
Dauntless were drifting in their boat in the Bay
of Biscay, not to mention other calamities. The
Gravina was less than a hundred miles from the
coast of Ireland, pitching and rolling in a rough
sea. At about a quarter to eight in the evening
the donkeyman was attending to his engine,
225
226 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
when he felt, as he says, a terrific explosion.
"Without knowing exactly how I got there," he
continues, "I found myself in the water, and
just got a glimpse of the ship before she sank.
The whole midship part seemed to have been
blown out of her. Her funnel and bridges were
gone, and she seemed to be in two parts. She
sank well inside of a minute. ' ' And that was the
end of the Gravina, torpedoed without warning.
Some of the crew clung to pieces of wreck.
Beaten upon by the cold sea, gradually freezing
to death, some thus kept afloat for three hours.
Then the submarine appeared, and cast life-
buoys attached to lines into the water, and so
drew fifteen wretched castaways on board, fif-
teen out of twenty-two of the crew of the Gra-
vina. It seems that the submarine waited for
three hours, because, owing to the arrival of a
British vessel of war, she was obliged to sub-
merge.
The rescued men were sent down the after
hatch of the submarine into her torpedo and
ammunition store, where they were each served
out with a glass of gin. There were the master,
two mates, the second engineer, one Norwegian,
two men of undefined nationality, and eight
Spanish firemen, among whom was the donkey-
man.
Says the donkeyman, "The commander and
officers of the submarine were delighted with
this piece of work, and talked of it as being
the finest explosion they had seen by a torpedo.' '
The donkeyman, conversing with the German
sailors, was informed by them of the extraor-
THE SLAVERS SW
dinary merits of German submarines and of
German guns and of everything German. The
donkeyman also learned that in addition to the
crew of the Gravina, there were two British
masters, prisoners of war, secluded in the for-
ward part of the vessel.
The seventeen captives were nine days on
board the submarine. During the whole of that
time, or the greater part of it, they were bat-
tened down in the hold. Of the miseries they
endured, of the foul atmosphere, the cramped
space, the deadly cold (for a submerged subma-
rine takes the temperature of the water), the
perpetual menace of death, or, failing death, the
terror of a German prison: of all these things,
the donkeyman says nothing. He merely re-
cords that the captives were fed well, chiefly on
tinned commodities. Now and again they heard
the firing of the gun on deck.
The German sailors told him that two more
steamers and a sailing ship had been sunk, and
that another steamer had been attacked, but had
beaten off the submarine with gunfire and
forced her to submerge.
On the ninth day of their captivity the
prisoners were landed at Heligoland, where
they were clapped in prison, " where we were
kept for three days, and lived on half a pound
of bread and turnips. ' '
Thence the party was sent in a patrol steamer
to Bremerhaven, " where we were kept in a
commandeered restaurant, and then a barracks,
and fed on half a pound of bread, turnips and
weak coffee."
228 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
Thence they were sent by rail to the huge
internment camp at Brandenburg. Here the
officers were separated from the men. At least
nine of the men were neutrals. The British
subjects were civilians, owning the rights of
the civilians of a belligerent country. But the
Germans treated neutrals and civilians alike as
slaves.
The men were quartered in a shed. They
were inoculated on the day of their arrival.
They were put to work. They were made to
saw wood and to build roads. They were paid
lm. 2f. a week. "And we still lived on half a
pound of bread and turnips."
One of the Spaniards protested against his
treatment, and was beaten about the head for
his pains.
The donkeyman knew not by what means his
repatriation was arranged; but after three
weeks ' slavery he and the rest of the Spaniards
were sent back through Switzerland to Spain.
Then he shipped again in a British ship, and so
came to Scotland, where he told his history.
What of the British prisoners? From that
ghastly slave camp of five or six thousand cap-
tives, Russians, French, Japanese and British,
arrive now and again sinister reports of the
brutality of sentries, of starvation, of the rob-
bing of their parcels of the British, of bullying
and maltreatment. It seems, however, that the
officers of the Gravina, after about a month in
purgatory, were moved to another camp.
XXXIII
A Desperate Pass
There were wild weather and wicked doings
in the Atlantic on February 7th, 1917 ; but on
the other side of England, in the North Sea, it
seemed to the master of the little steamship
Hanna Larsen, that all was peaceful enough.
He had left the Port of London just after mid-
night on the preceding day, going down with the
tide, past the three-decker men-of-war training
hulks, and that mariner's mark, the spire of
Grave,send church, and round the wide bend past
Thameshaven, and so out to the Nore as the
sunrise shone ahead, and then he steered north.
The night of the 7th fell hazy and calm, with
a smooth sea. At a little after eleven o'clock
the master, leaving the second officer on the
bridge, went into the chart-room.
He was startled by the sound of a gunshot.
As he ran to the bridge three more shells sang
about his ears. The master could not detect
whence they came. He ordered the engines to
be reversed to take the way off the ship ; told the
second officer to read the patent log; assembled
the ship's company on deck, with the exception
of the chief engineer, a fireman and a donkey-
man who remained below. The boats were
swung out ready for lowering. Then nothing
229
230 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
happened. They waited. They waited for a
quarter of an hour. The shots might have been
fired by a British ship at an enemy unseen by
the people of the Hanna Larsen; or a British
ship might have mistaken her for an enemy ; or
an enemy submarine might have opened fire,
and then taken fright at the approach of a Brit-
ish ship of war and dived. In that indecipher-
able and mysterious darkness anything was
possible.
The master decided to go on. When a ship
has been stopped and the crew are expecting in
imminent danger to abandon ship, it is always
something of a test of discipline to issue orders
to carry on.
The men returned to their stations; the en-
gines went slow ahead and then quickened to
full speed. A few minutes afterwards another
shot came over. It was fired from off the star-
board quarter and passed just over the bridge.
The master again reversed engines. He sound-
ed three blasts on the whistle, signifying
"Abandon ship." Three more shells were
fired, striking the boat deck and breaking a
steam-pipe, so that the steam poured up on deck.
The master ordered the men into the boats and
burned his confidential papers in the galley fire.
The unseen enemy continued to fire while the
men were embarking in the boats. The second
engineer, the steward and two able seamen were
wounded.
WTiile the two boats were pulling away from
the ship the master saw a submarine, gleaming
a faint grey upon the dark, stealing round the
A DESPERATE PASS 231
bows of the ship. She bore no flag, nor mark
nor number.
The commanding officer of the submarine
hailed the boats and ordered them alongside.
As the men in the master's boat hung on to the
port-side of the submarine, a muffled figure in
her conning-tower demanded to be told where
was the master. When the master replied, he
was ordered on board the submarine, together
with four or five hands. The chief officer, two
able seamen and the engineer's steward fol-
lowed the master on board the enemy, a volun-
tary action on their part worth noting.
Five of the Hanna Lar sen's crew remained in
the boat, and these were joined by several Ger-
man sailors, bringing bombs on board.
In the meantime the second lifeboat had made
fast to the stern of the submarine.
The master told the commanding officer of the
submarine that one of the master's crew was
badly wounded in the head, whereupon the Ger-
man officer ordered one of his people to fetch
lint and dress the wound.
The master, being behind the conning-tower,
did not see what happened next, but the chief
engineer, in his boat astern of the submarine,
afterwards told the master that the master's
boat, partly manned by the five men of the
Hanna Larsen and partly by Germans, pulled
over to the Hanna Larsen, into which the Ger-
mans climbed. They slung their bombs over the
starboard side, searched the ship and took food
and clothing and other things, put these in the
boat, ignited the fuses of the bombs and pulled
232 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
back to the submarine. A little after, flames lit
the night, and there were several heavy explo-
sions.
The chief officer, the steward and the two able
seamen who had followed the master on board
were ordered into their boat. The chief engi-
neer, in the other boat, was ordered on board
the submarine. With the master, he was sent
below. Then the commanding officer of the sub-
marine ordered the men in the two boats to
shove off. They were subsequently landed.
The wounded men went to hospital, where one
of the able seamen died.
Turn we to the master and the chief engineer,
helpless and captive among the strange and evil
under-water folk who had robbed them of their
ship. They contemplated the stiff, unseaman-
like figures, the hard and servile faces moving
in that long, rounded cell crammed with myste-
rious mechanism, going about their murderous
business in the dead of night ; and a more hope-
less situation the two British seamen had never
confronted.
Presently a German officer descended. He
wanted to know where the master kept his chro-
nometer, sextant and papers, because, he said,
a party was going to the Hanna Larsen again.
The master subsequently learned that the
ship was again plundered, and that she was
finally sunk by the explosion of bombs placed
inside the hull. (As a matter of fact, she did not
sink till the following day.)
The two prisoners slept that night in ham-
mocks on the floor. They slept. But the next
A DESPERATE PASS
morning the master had no stomach for his
breakfast. Empty as he was, he was summoned
to the commanding officer, where he sat in
sacred isolation in his cabin aft.
The German offered wine to the master,
either because he was obviously ailing, or to
loosen his tongue, and proceeded to question
him as to the position of the British minefield.
Getting very little satisfaction on this point, the
German told the master that he, the master, and
the chief engineer had been taken prisoner, be-
cause orders had been issued to capture all
masters and chief engineers, so that the supply
of officers for the British merchant service
should be depleted. The German officer also
said that the two prisoners would be taken to
Zeebrugge and thence to Euhleben. He added
that he had put down eighteen ships, and would
sink thirty before he returned to port. That
was what he said. But he was mistaken.
After this encouraging conversation, the mas-
ter and the chief engineer occupied themselves
in deducing what was going forward on deck
from what they heard and saw below. They
had scarce a dull moment.
The submarine was cruising on the surface.
Soundings were taken every twenty minutes.
From time to time came the report and the vi-
bration of firing, the men below passingup shells
to the gunners on deck. After one of these at-
tacks a German brought down below a sextant,
a chronometer and a Norwegian flag, and proud-
ly exhibited these trophies to the prisoners.
The two prisoners, like others in the same
234 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
case, saw no alternative in their future be-
tween being taken to a German prison camp,
and being sunk with the submarine by a British
ship of war. And in these waters, off the Eng-
lish coast, it was singularly probable that they
would be sent to the bottom without a chance of
escape, especially as the German officer in com-
mand was so busy and zealous. That morning,
for instance, he had begun at eight o 'clock with
the Norwegian . . . He was still at it.
It was about two hours later when a couple
of rounds were fired on deck; and the next
moment officers and men came tumbling down
below, exhibiting every mark of terror, and the
submarine was made hurriedly to dive. The
spectacle was far from inspiriting.
The two prisoners fortified themselves with
dinner, which was good and plentiful, and
awaited the next crisis. It arrived about half-
past one.
Firing broke out again on deck. It ceased,
and the submarine dived below the surface. Of-
ficers and men were clearly in a state of high
tension. There was a pause. Then came a for-
midable explosion, and a tremendous shock
jarred the submarine from end to end. The top
plating was burst open, and the water poured
into the vessel. Now, thought the two prison-
ers, it has come. This is the end. . . .
The commanding officer issued sharp orders
to the men at their stations beside the valves,
and the, submarine rose swiftly to the surface.
The captain, followed by the rest of the officers
and the whole of the crew, crowded up the lad-
ders. They left the engines running. They left
A DESPERATE PASS
the two prisoners below, the water spouting
through the buckling plates into the chamber,
the vessel heeling over. Outside, shot after
shot rang out ; the two men below felt the shock
of their impact, and pieces of the conning-tower
crashed down the hatchway.
The master and the chief engineer decided to
die, if die they must, in the open. So up they
went, into the clean air and the daylight; and
there, ranging up alongside, was a British man-
of-war. The master flourished his handkerchief.
The Germans, each man's hand uplifted, stood
ranked along the heeling deck, like a row of
mechanical toys. Two Germans lay prone on
the deck, with blood about them. Two were
in the water.
The man-of-war was getting a boat away, and,
perceiving that the surrender was accepted, one
of the Germans went below and stopped the en-
gines.
The master and the chief engineer saw the
bluejackets swinging to their oars, saw the offi-
cer sitting in the stern-sheets, heard the order
"Way enough' ' as the boat curved round to
come alongside.
Then the master hailed. "We are two
Britishers, taken prisoners last night,' ■ he
bellowed.
' ' Jump in, ' ' said the officer, as the boat drew
abreast of the tilted deck of the submarine.
As for the commanding officer of the subma-
rine, he was no more seen. He was first on the
conning-tower during the attack, and was killed
by a shell. So he did not sink thirty ships after
all.
XXXIV
Sticking to It
The master of the oil tank-steamship Pinna,
having been on the bridge for many hours, was
taking what he called a cat-nap in the chart-
room, lying on the mattress ed seat, his head
close to the voice-tube communicating with the
bridge. Through his sleep there penetrated
into his consciousness the vision of a small craft
sailing off the starboard beam and firing at
something. The master sprang bright awake.
It was the chief officer 's voice speaking from the
bridge, and in a moment the master was stand-
ing beside him ; and both officers surveyed what
appeared to be a fishing boat under sail. And
yet it was not quite like a fishing boat. There
was something wrong about it — and why should
a fishing coble carry a gun?
It was towards seven o'clock of a calm, hazy
morning, February 12th, 1917. The Pinna,
carrying nearly 8,000 tins of refined petroleum,
was approaching the south-west coast. If the
strange sail was a submarine, with luck and
pluck the master might yet win port.
The master ordered the helm to be put over
to bring the suspicious sail astern. A gun
spoke from the boat, and a shell struck the
starboard bulwark abaft the forecastle. The
236
STICKING TO IT 237
master, concluding that he had to deal with a
submarine, ran to the aft steering-engine and
took the wheel.
A shell missed the bridge and hit the main-
mast, and a splinter smashed the engine-room
telegraph on the bridge, severing communica-
tion with the engine-room. A shell struck the
poop; another pierced the counter, went
through a bulkhead and hit the engine stove.
The master, keeping the submarine astern,
perceived that she was overhauling him, and
hitting the ship where she liked at short range.
He stopped engines and ordered the boats away.
While the men were embarking, the subma-
rine, having ceased fire, slid up abeam on the
port side. When the crew on the port side had
pulled clear the submarine fired a torpedo,
striking the Pinna against No. 2 tank, and the
crew of the starboard boat, lying alongside the
ship, received a disagreeable shock. The mas-
ter, in the starboard boat, pulled round the stern
and joined the port boat, while the Pinna slowly
listed over to port.
The submarine had disappeared, probably
because she had observed the approach of a
patrol boat.
The captain of the patrol boat hailed the
master of the Pinna, offering to pick up the
crew. The master, although his ship had been
under fire and torpedoed, was perfectly com-
posed and vigilant. He told the captain of the
patrol boat to leave himself and the crew in the
boats, and suggested that the captain should
steam swiftly round and round the Pinna, while
the master tried to save her.
238 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
Then the master called for volunteers. With
him, on board the injured ship, went the chief,
second and third engineers and a fireman, while
the patrol boat circled round her. That man-
oeuvre was some protection ; but it was far from
complete; and the working party toiling down
below in the engine-room risked being torpe-
doed.
They found enough steam still in the boiler
to work the pumps, and began to pump out one
of the tanks in order to lighten the ship and so
get her on an even keel. After about three-
quarters of an hour she was righted.
The captain of the patrol boat arranged to
take the Pinna in tow ; a hawser was carried on
board by the people of the Pinna and made fast.
In the meantime another patrol vessel had come
along, and, concluding that all was now well,
had gone away.
The crew in the boats of the Pinna were get-
ting on board, when the master suddenly per-
ceived the periscope of the submarine. He
shouted to the captain of the patrol boat to re-
call by wireless the second patrol boat. But it
was too late. A torpedo struck the ship where
the first had struck her.
But the master was undefeated. He stuck to
it that the ship would not and should not sink.
Nor did she. They worked away at the pumps ;
more patrol boats came up ; the Pinna was taken
in tow ; and that evening, at seven o 'clock, just
twelve hours after she was torpedoed, she was
safely beached.
The Pinna was afterwards floated and re-
paired.
XXXV
A Fishing Trip
You know the steam trawler — the stout,
broad-beamed craft with deck-house amidships,
and one portly funnel, a large square hatch cov-
ering the fish-hold, and a dinghy fixed aft.
The grey-bearded master and his six or eight
hands are seasoned, like their vessel, to all
weathers; for they fish the North Sea, wet or
fine, storm or calm, summer and winter, peace
or war.
At midnight of February 5th-6th, 1917, the
steam trawler Adelaide was some thirty miles
from a north-country port. The master was
sleeping below, when he was roused out by a
deck hand who told him that a submarine was
firing at the Adelaide. (There used to be an im-
pression that in an abstract theory, called inter-
national law, fishing craft were outside warlike
operations.)
The master, going on deck, saw a long, grey
shape lying on the water in the brilliant moon-
light, a little way off on the starboard quarter.
The master ordered the boat away. The sub-
239
240 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
marine fired two more shots while the men were
lowering the boat. The boat pulled clear. The
submarine drew alongside the boat, and the
officer on the conning-tower peremptorily or-
dered the people of the Adelaide on board.
The German had no murderous design. He
was merely in need of a few little things. He
ordered two of the Adelaide's crew to return on
board with three German sailors. The Germans
carried with them the bombs without which they
seldom travel. (No doubt in future vessels will
be fitted with a rack to hold the bombs of visi-
tors.) On board the Adelaide the Germans de-
posited their explosives in the engine-room,
ordered the British seamen to open the condens-
ers, took all the spanners they could find, se-
cured the stock of provisions, stole the flags,
ignited the fuses of the bombs and sheered off.
The submarine officer ordered the crew of the
Adelaide into their boats. "They had just
nicely got in," says the master, "when there
were three loud explosions on the said ship (the
Adelaide ).' ' The Germans gave to the master a
loaf of bread (his own). One loaf among nine
men, each of whom is accustomed to eat a loaf
or two loaves at a meal, is small, sustenance for
a thirty mile pull.
Then the submarine went away. It was
about a quarter to four. There is one thing
your seaman never in any circumstances for-
gets. He always notes the time. Torpedoed,
under fire, sinking, in the water, as long as he is
alive the seaman notes the time, G. M. T. And
when he fetches up in Port of Heaven he will
A FISHING TRIP 241
know approximately at what hour and so many
minutes his spirit quitted its mortal tenement.
The master steered by the moon till the sun
rose, and then he steered by the sun. The crew
rowed for eight hours.
The conning-tower of a submarine rose above
the surface, and the crew of the Adelaide hung
on their oars in a deadly suspense. But it was
a British officer who emerged on the conning-
tower, and a British voice which hailed them to
come to breakfast.
This was a lucky trip. The men of the Ade-
laide lost ship and gear. Many of their mates
have lost life and limb as well.
XXXVI
Twice Running
The North Atlantic (that arena of disaster),
a confused swell, noon of Tuesday, March 6th,
1917. The steamship Fenay Lodge heading
towards France, a ring of haze, about ten miles
in diameter, closing her in.
A torpedo struck her on the starboard side;
the master ordered the crew into the boats, and
away they went. They pulled for about half an
hour, the water breaking over them, when, half-
hidden in the mist, the submarine emerged into
view and opened fire on the deserted ship. Pres-
ently both ship and submarine were lost to sight.
There were twenty-seven persons in the Fe-
nay Lodge, all British except one Dutchman and
one Eussian. In two boats they drifted head to
sea in the bitter weather, the rest of that day,
Tuesday, and all that night, and the morning of
Wednesday. Then, towards noon, they sighted
a steamship; pulled towards her, making sig-
nals of distress, and were taken on board. She
was a French ship, the Ohio,
The castaways had scarce shifted into dry
clothing and eaten and drunk, when the Ohio
242
TWICE RUNNING 243
was struck by a torpedo. She went down in
three minutes. No other details are available.
Half an hour after the people of the Fenay
Lodge had been picked up they were again
adrift. But five of them had been drowned in
the sinking of the Ohio.
The three boats, containing the survivors of
the Fenay Lodge and the Frenchmen, drifted
head to sea in the bitter weather for the rest of
the day. About six in the evening they sighted
a steamer. She bore down upon them. She was
a British ship, the Winnebago, and, stopping
alongside the tossing boats, the master offered
to take them on board. He was answered by so
confused a shouting in French and English that
at first he could make nothing of it. But pres-
ently he understood that the men were warning
him that there were three enemy submarines
about, and that they refused to be taken on
board.
They were some two hundred miles from land,
and they refused to be taken on board. The
master of the Winnebago had done all he could ;
if the castaways thought open boats preferable
to a stout ship, it was their affair, and he went
on.
The men of the Fenay Lodge and the men of
the Ohio drifted head to sea in the bitter
weather all that Wednesday night, and all
Thursday morning. At three o'clock in the
afternoon a patrol boat ran up alongside and
took on board twenty-two men of the Fenay
Lodge and five officers and twenty-seven men
of the French ship Ohio,
xxxvn
The Fight of the "Aracataca"
The master, on the bridge of the Aracataca,
did not hear the report of the first gun fired,
but the gunner, standing by his gun aft, marked
the splash of a projectile falling close by the
rudder. Then the master heard a distant
detonation. For one moment he could see noth-
ing; the next, a shell dived into the sea on the
port bow. Two or three shells struck the ship,
and still there was no submarine in sight. The
chief steward came running up to the bridge to
report that a man whose hand had been blown
off, had come to the saloon, and that several
other men in the forecastle were dangerously
wounded.
The captain knew from the position of the
arrival of the projectiles that the submarine
was astern. Here was the event for which he
had been diligently rehearsing officers and men.
The two gunners aft received the signal to
return the fire, as soon as the second shell came
over, together with directions as to range, and
they went steadily and swiftly to work. At the
same time up went the red ensign.
244
THE FIGHT OF THE "ARACATACA" 245
All the ship's officers, except the engineers,
came to the bridge. The chief officer took the
wheel. The other officers carried messages and
acted as requisite.
The section of the crew which had been
trained for the purpose, went to their stations,
and passed up ammunition.
The wireless operator sent out warnings, but
no distress signals, because the master "did
not consider himself in distress.' ' Answers
were immediately received. From one of his
Majesty's ships came a reply saying that she
would arrive in half an hour. The two vessels
continued to talk to each other during the action.
The gunners of the Aracataca exchanged shot
for shot with the submarine. As each shell of
the enemy came over the master noted the posi-
tion of the splash, and altered course accord-
ingly.
The firing on both sides was rapid. Amid the
regular reports of the guns, the smoke and crash
of bursting shells, a rumour ran about the ship,
that the ammunition locker had been blown up,
and the cool and wary master observed signs of
consternation among the crew.
The master went below and spoke to the men,
telling them that the Aracataca was gaining on
the submarine and that help would arrive inside
half an hour. The men turned to at once. Such
is the value of leadership.
Coming on deck, the master called together
the deck hands, rallied them with a few hearty
words, and asked them to take on any duty that
might be required of them. The men responded
246 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
with a will. Some of the seamen went below to
do the work of those firemen and trimmers who
had been injured.
The gunners, one of whom was the carpenter,
a volunteer, were sticking to their gun, and
although the submarine manoeuvred to place
herself dead in the rays of the sun, the Arar-
cataca gunners made very good shooting, per-
ceptibly bewildering the submarine.
The action hotly continued, in a brisk breeze,
a choppy and sunlit sea, the big ship swiftly
manoeuvring, belching fire from her stern gun,
beside which the carpenter stood exposed dur-
ing the fight, the conning-tower of the subma-
rine, astern of the steamship, gliding steadily
onwards, now wreathed in smoke, now glitter-
ing in the sun.
And all the time the chief steward, below, was
doing the grisly work of a surgeon. The wound-
ed men were brought from the forecastle and
laid on the table of the saloon. With his mates,
the chief steward improvised dressings and
tourniquets. When he had done he reported to
the master, (1) that the cases were very serious,
(2) that his stock of medical appliances was very
limited, (3) that he had stopped all bleeding.
One man, a fireman, lay dead in the forecastle.
He had been killed instantaneously. His body
was taken from the forecastle and laid in a place
by itself. Thus all was done decently and in
order.
The action began at one o'clock. At some
time during the first half -hour a shell pierced
the funnel, entered the deck-house and burst in
THE FIGHT OF THE "ARACATACA" 247
the galley, and another shell sang between the
master and the chief officer and smashed the
fore part of the bridge on which they were
standing, and, bursting, scattered shrapnel.
But presently the fire of the enemy became
less frequent and the shells went wide. The
submarine was receiving better than she sent.
At the end of three-quarters of an hour, the
master, watching the fall of the shells from the
Aracataca's gun, saw the conning-tower vanish
in a smother of smoke and spray. When it
blew away the submarine was lying motionless
athwart her course, and her gun was silent.
The Aracataca had beaten her.
Four minutes later a British vessel of war
hove in sight, and promptly steered to place
herself between the submarine and the steam-
ship.
But the submarine was done. The Aracataca
saw her no more, and came safely into port.
The master reported that the crew behaved
to the master's "entire satisfaction, ' ' and espe-
cially commended the services of the chief stew-
ard, who saved the lives of the wounded men,
and whose amateur surgery was so good that
the doctors who treated the men in port affirmed
that it was as well done ' ' as any man could do
it." The master also especially commended the
two gunners, of whom one was the carpenter,
"the latter taking a prominent position at the
gun throughout the whole action in a most ex-
posed position, being entirely voluntary."
As for the master himself, his skilled organic
sation, composure, resource and courage won
248 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
him one of the most notable fights of the British
merchant service. It was fought on March
10th, 1917.
The German beast of prey was outfought and
outmanoeuvred from the beginning, although he
struck first and murderously. The master of
the Aracataca had defeated the submarine ere
the ship of war arrived.
XXXVIII
The Blackguard
The events of March 27th, 1917, are, like the
night that covered them, darkly clear, with here
and there significant and daunting glimpses
opening between great spaces of blackness and
again obscured. And those glimpses are the
reflection of a reflection in the mind's mirror
of two men.
One was the gunner of the steamship Thracia,
a private of the Boyal Marines. The time was
between eight and nine o'clock at night; the
ship was in the Channel, bound to a home port ;
the gunner was on duty, stationed at his gun on
the poop. He heard a sharp detonation, which
(he said) sounded like the crack of a pistol fired
somewhere forward. A column of water min-
gled with black smoke shot up forward of the
bridge to starboard. Four short blasts sounded
on the syren, signifying " Abandon ship." The
gunner ran forward, mingling with a crowd of
hurrying figures in the dark, felt the ship sink-
ing downwards towards the bows beneath his
feet as he ran, and understood that she would
go down ere the boats could be lowered. He
turned and ran back to the gun to fetch his life-
belt, slung it on, climbed on the rail to dive,
"and before he knew exactly what had hap-
249
250 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
pened he found himself in the sea." Events,
as they do on these occasions, succeeded one
another more swiftly than consciousness could
register.
The gunner was drawn deep down in the icy
water, came up again, and struck out, shouting
for help with all his strength. He swam and
shouted during what, with a seaman's particu-
larity, he estimated to be a period of twenty
minutes, rising and falling with the lop of sea,
fighting for his life, and then there came an-
swering calls, a boat loomed above him, and
he was hauled on board. She had been lowered
from a neutral steamer, which afterwards
landed the sturdy Marine at an English port.
He thought at first he was the sole survivor of
the Thracia.
When the gunner on deck heard a detonation
like the report of a pistol, the acting fourth
officer, a boy of fifteen, who was just getting
into his bunk below, felt a shock as of "a small
explosion about the main bunker." As he ran
up on deck in his shirt, the syren blew the sig-
nal " Abandon ship." The next thing the boy
knew, he was being drawn down with the sink-
ing vessel.
Struggling to the surface, he saw a capsized
boat, swam to it, and found it was part of the
starboard lifeboat, of which the stern had been
blown off. The fourth officer climbed in the
boat and lashed himself to it. Other men swam
to the boat and hung on. The fourth officer
counted seven. He made out that two among
them were badly hurt. The other men could
THE BLACKGUARD 251
give them no help, and the two wounded men
were washed away and drowned. The rest hung
on for a while. Then the black hulk of a steamer
loomed about a mile distant, and three of the
men resolved to swim to her. They dropped off
and started. Five minutes afterwards the
steamer vanished. The three men were never
seen again.
At this point, the fourth officer, drenched by
the sea and stabbed by the sword of the frozen
wind, became partially unconscious. When he
revived a little the two remaining men of the
seven were gone.
What woke the lad to some perception was
the sound of a voice, calling in English. He
saw a long, dark shape heaving to leeward, and
understood that it was a German submarine,
and that a German officer was asking him ques-
tions.
The German asked what ship he had sunk,
whence she came, whither she was bounfl, and
what was her cargo. The fourth officer gave
the information.
"Are you an Englishman ?" asked the Ger-
man officer.
The boy replied that he was.
"Then," said the German, "I shall shoot
you."
"Shoot away," said the fourth officer.
So disrespectful an answer naturally hurt the
sensitive German.
"I shall not waste powder on a pig of an
Englishman," was the German officer's majes-
tic retort.
252 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
At this point, the German seems to have per-
mitted a just indignation to overcome his nat-
ural delicacy of feeling.
" Drown, you swine, drown !" he shouted,
and sheered off.
The officer of his Imperial Majesty's Navy in
command of the submarine left the child adrift
on his bit of wreckage. There the boy drifted,
lashed, helpless and to all appearance dead, all
that night. The sun rose on that spectacle in
the bitter March morning, and still the boy
tossed and tumbled in the breaking sea.
There, at half -past ten (the fourth officer of
course marks the time, though he was very
nearly dead), a fishing boat espied the casta-
way, bore down and took him on board. He
had been more than thirteen hours in the water.
Of thirty-eight persons, these two were saved :
the gunner and the acting fourth officer, aged
fifteen and a half years.
The sea, as we know, is blind and pitiless ; but
the sea spared the lad who defied the German.
If that chivalrous officer still defiles the sea, or
befouls the land, he may reflect that he was
silly to give way to temper, after all; because
if there was one thing which would make that
boy resolve to live, it was the German's order
that he should drown. The German officer
should have shot the fourth officer, as the child
suggested, instead of being piqued and haugh-
tily refusing that simple request. He seems to
have lacked a sense of humour. "We are a
serious nation/ ' a German naval officer once
said to the present writer.
Settling the Score
When the master of the Palm Branch had
his first dispute with the enemy, his ship was
an unarmed target, and so he must trust to his
skill in retreat. In the second affair it was not
so.
On November 21st, 1916, in grey autumn
weather, the Palm Branch was off the coast of
France. At a little before two o'clock in the
afternoon, the master, who was on the bridge,
saw the conning-tower of a submarine rise out
of the sea within forty yards of his port quarter.
As soon as the submarine was awash, men
swiftly put together a gun aft of the conning-
tower.
It was an emergency for which the master had
been looking for two years. While the Germans
were fitting the gun, the master of the Palm
Branch put his helm over to get the submarine
right astern, and ordered full speed ahead.
The chief engineer himself went down to tjie
stokehold to encourage the firemen during the
trouble.
It began five minutes after the submarine
had emerged. She opened fire. The first few
253
254 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
shells missed the ship. Then they began to hit
her. The submarine, manoeuvring to get a
broadside aim, was continually defeated in her
design by the master of the Palm Branch, who
swung his ship to keep the enemy astern. The
submarine continued to fire with explosive and
shrapnel shells.
The rest of the officers were each at the in-
stant disposal of the master. Beside him the
apprentice was at the wheel.
Under that steady fire at short range the stern
of the ship was damaged, and the quarters of
the crew aft were knocked to pieces; the port
lifeboat was shot away; the starboard lifeboat
had a hole through it. The bridge was hit and a
seaman was wounded. At the same time the
apprentice was struck on the head by a splinter.
He stuck to the wheel, blood running down his
face.
Shells entered the forecastle, wrecked the
men's bunks, and a fire broke out. The chief
officer instantly called a working party to ex-
tinguish the fire, and checked the alarm of the
deck hands, who heartily responded to his ap-
peal.
After half an hour of this work, the subma-
rine, which had been kept right astern of the
Palm Branch, and which did not pursue her,
ceased fire and went away to attack a fleet of
fishing boats, easier game.
Thus did the master save a valuable ship for
his King and country. The Palm Branch ran
into a French port to repair damages.
Thence she proceeded upon her voyage ; and
SETTLING THE SCORE 255
upon her arrival in an American port, aroused
some little excitement in America, because here
was a ship which had been under fire and which
had escaped.
The master of the Palm Branch continued
upon his lawful occasions, and a paternal Gov-
ernment gave him a gun to play with.
Some five months after his encounter with
the German, the master of the Palm Branch
brought her into the White Sea, The afternoon
of May 4th, 1917, fell fine, with a light breeze
and a smooth sea, At a little before four
o'clock, the master on the bridge saw the peri-
scope of a submarine rise above the glassy sur-
face about a quarter of a mile from the ship,
on the port beam.
The gunner, stationed aft at his gun, saw the
track of a torpedo whitening towards the ship.
The torpedo passed astern of the Palm Branch,
missing her by about eight feet.
At the same time the conning-tower of the
submarine began to rise, and the gunner of the
Palm Branch fired. The shell struck the con-
ning-tower. The gunner's second shot pierced
the hull of the submarine, which sank.
As she sank, a shell fired at long range came
over the Palm Branch. It came from a second
submarine. The master ordered full speed and
steered a zig-zag course, while the two gunners
kept a steady fire upon the submarine.
All the crew were at their stations; the offi-
cers were at the disposal of the master ; his or-
ganisation worked perfectly. So accurate was
the shooting of the Palm Branch that the sub-
256 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
marine dropped further astern, lengthening the
range from 4,000 to 7,500 yards. She was firing
continuously from two guns.
Bewildered and hampered by the fire of the
Palm Branch, the submarine fired about eighty
rounds in the space of something under an hour ;
she did not touch the Palm Branch once.
Presently the gunner of the Palm Branch
placed a shell on the after gun of the submarine,
knocking it to pieces. Then some British trawl-
ers appeared, steaming at full speed and con-
verging on the submarine. The submarine
ceased fire. She was done, fairly beaten by gun
fire ; and the last the Palm Branch saw of her,
she was lying like a log on the water. So the
master of the Palm Branch was quits with the
enemy.
The Admiralty stated that they considered
his achievement due to the excellent discipline
and preparation for defence which he habit-
ually maintained in the Palm Branch.
XL
The Raft
The story of the Serapis is a short story, be-
cause, like many another of these cruel records,
it includes spaces of time concerning whose
events no more than a suggestion is practicable.
Men who for days and nights have been burning
and freezing in open boats, sick with hunger
and tormented by thirst, seldom describe their
sensations. They happily forget them, or they
are brought to so low a level of consciousness
that all is merged in dull suffering ; or, for the
sake of their own peace of mind, they refuse to
peer into, the glass of memory. . . .
The Serapis had brought the crew of a tor-
pedoed ship into port, so that when she sailed
again every man on board owned a vivid notion
of what might happen to himself. But it did
not occur to anyone to desert on that account.
The Serapis was one day out. At about six
o'clock on Tuesday, June 26th, 1917, when she
was midmost of the Irish Sea, a torpedo struck
her on the starboard side and exploded between
the engine-room and the hold. Instantly she
heeled over on her beam ends, and the men
257
258 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
who had rushed to get away the port lifeboat
were flung into the water. Then the Serapis
sank bodily. A minute elapsed between the ex-
plosion of the torpedo and the total disappear-
ance of the ship.
The long swell was strewn with swimming
men and wreckage, men clinging to planks and
pieces of the ship, men drowning, broken frag-
ments which had been men, and men dead.
Then uprose from the depths the German
submarine, and her commanding officer sur-
veyed his work from the conning-tower, and
found it to his mind. He hailed the drowning
men, demanding the captain and the chief offi-
cer ; and when these had replied, he brought the
submarine alongside the captain and ordered
his men to haul him on board. He sent the
captain below, picked up the chief officer, and
sent him below also.
Then the German officer went away and left
all the rest of the people of the Serapis to
drown.
A steamer was visible on the horizon, and the
submarine steered towards her.
The second officer beheld all these things, and
perceived that the command now devolved upon
himself. He set about to save life. Swimming
on his plank, he collected more pieces of wreck-
age, and with pieces of rigging made shift to
bind them together into a raft. Four men be-
sides himself huddled on the raft. A little way
off three men were sitting on another assem-
blage of wreckwood, and the two rafts drifted
slowly away in company. They left a few of
THE RAFT 259
the crew clinging to spar and locker. The rest
had gone down.
All that night the second officer and the four
men drifted on the swell. Here is one of those
spaces of time of which the record is a sinister
blank. Let who will imagine the plight of men
insecurely riding a bulk of sodden timber in
mid-sea, continually beaten upon by the break-
ing water, through the infinitely long hours of
the night.
When the sun rose its first rays gleamed upon
the second officer's raft, alone.
The raft capsized, throwing the five casta-
ways into the water. Paralysed by the cold of
the night, three men sank and were drowned.
The second officer and one man climbed des-
perately back upon the raft.
As the sun rose higher the seaman began to
babble and to shout, his voice continuing amid
the vast silence of the sea in the high monotone
of the delirious. By degrees he fell to moaning.
Presently he was silent. The second officer was
now alone with the dead man.
And here is another blank space of time.
Whether or not the second officer perceived
the submarine approaching him he does not re-
cord. All he says is that at three o 'clock in the
afternoon he was picked up by a British sub-
marine.
XLI
The Flying Death
On May 20th, 1917, a thick haze covered the
waters off the East Coast, and a steamship lay
at anchor waiting for light. At a little after
one the fog lifted, and hung like a filmy roof
over the sea. The master of the Birchgrove
weighed anchor and went on his way.
He heard the drone of aircraft engines; and
presently sighted two aeroplanes flying fast
and low, sweeping ont of the haze directly
towards his ship.
The next moment there came the chatter of
machine-guns, and bullets spattered about the
bridge. The master saw a strange dark object
flying downwards, and an aerial torpedo
plunged into the sea alongside and dived under
the ship without touching her. The master put
the helm over, and so swiftly altered course.
He was just in time, for a second torpedo, fired
at 200 yards, passed within ten feet of the stern.
The master marked the black crosses painted
on the underside of the planes, ran up the red
ensign, ordered the crew below, ordered the
gun's crew to open fire. The two seaplanes had
260
THE FLYING DEATH 261
continued machine-gun fire from the first shot,
and the bullets continued to whistle all about
the bridge.
The pilot remained on the bridge with the
master, the two gunners served their gun
astern. No one else was on deck. Below, the
firemen were shovelling coal for their lives.
The master, staring upwards, saw the great
birds gliding above, each ridden by a hooded
figure, each spurting flame.
The gunner of the Birchgrove, cool and un-
hurried, trained his gun with care. At his first
shot the two seaplanes turned about, and ris-
ing, steered eastward, whence they had come.
The gunner of the Birchgrove fired again and
again, his third shot either hitting the enemy
or going just over him. Another shot, and the
two seaplanes were out of sight, and in a little
while the drone of their flight died away.
The discipline and organisation of the master
and the steady marksmanship of the gunners
saved the Birchgrove. They also saved three
defenceless foreign vessels which were steam-
ing within range of the seaplanes.
XLII
Brethren of the Shark
Very early on Sunday morning, July 15th,
1917, the steamship Mariston, homeward bound
in the North Atlantic, was within about a hun-
dred miles of land. The evidence of the man-
ner of her loss and the sequel is the deposition
of the only survivor, who was the cook.
When the torpedo struck the ship the cook
was asleep in his bunk, in the house on the main
deck. He was awakened by being hurled up-
wards against the ceiling, with the crash of an
explosion in his ears. The mess-room steward,
who was asleep in the bunk below the cook, con-
tinued to slumber, nor did he wake when the
cook shook him. Already the water was surg-
ing about the cook's ankles, and dripping
through the seams of the deck above; and the
cook ran out upon the main deck, which was
awash. He seems to remember seeing the ap-
prentice following him as he doubled to the
midship cabin to rouse the steward. He never
reached the steward, because a second explo-
sion, catching him on the way, blew the midship
Amid the tumult, the black smoke and the
cabin to pieces.
262
BRETHREN OF THE SHARK 263
pieces of the ship falling about his ears, the
cook, as he ran aft, was aware of the chief gun-
ner. The ship was sinking rapidly; the main
deck was level with the breaking sea, and the
cook caught up a hatch and plunged overboard,
followed by the chief gunner. Both men clung
to the hatch; the ship went down bodily, stern
first; and there came a mighty rush of water.
When it had passed the cook was alone on his
hatch. He never saw the gunner again.
In the colourless light of an overcast sunrise
the cook beheld the long, confused rollers
strewn with wreckage, and counted seventeen
men clinging to the pieces of the ship.
Then up from the troubled waters projected
two periscopes, like two horns, then the two
conning-towers of the submarine, and then her
long hull, shiny and black as coal, hove dripping
upon the swell. To the cook she loomed as
great as the five-thousand-ton ship she had just
sent to the bottom. All along her side, revealed
in curves of the moving sea, waved festoons of
green weed and slimy barnacles. She carried
a gun forward and a gun aft.
The hatch on the conning-tower lifted, and
there emerged a German officer. The men in
the water were crying and shouting for help.
The German officer surveyed the field of de-
struction through his glasses. Presently he
dropped them, leisurely disappeared down the
hatch, which shut, and the submarine began to
sink. She settled steadily down, amid the cries
of rage of the drowning men, until the peri-
scopes alone were visible. Then they glided
264 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
away, cutting through the seas, each square,
hooded pole flirting a feather of foam. . . .
The cook, tossing on his little raft, kept
counting the men in sight; and every time he
counted he made the total less. Then he heard
a man scream, and saw him throw up his hands ;
and he saw the black fin of a shark cleaving the
lop of sea, and the flash of white as the great
fish turned over to snatch its prey. The cook
saw (he says) "a crowd of sharks," and heard
man after man screaming as he was dragged
under.
That is all he says. It is perhaps adequate.
A theory may here be hazarded that the sharks
follow the submarines. . . . They could make
their profit of the voyage.
As the sun rose, the wind and the sea went
down on that desolation; and still the cook
tossed on his hatch, until he was the last alive.
He thinks it was about ten o'clock when he
found himself utterly alone, except for the
sharks. By that time he had been some six
hours in the water.
At about five o'clock that evening, the mas-
ter of a British steamship sighted a space of sea
dotted all over with drifting wreckage. He
steered towards it, and passed through a field
of floating timbers and fittings and packing-
cases; and on its further fringe he espied the
figure of a man floating on a hatch.
It was half -past six when the cook was hauled
into the steamer's boat and brought aboard, and
revived and comforted. So he lived to tell his
tale, alone of all the people in the Mansion.
xLin
The Case op the "Belgian Prince"
Forty-three seamen of the steamship Bel-
gian Prince were crowded on the deck of a Ger-
man submarine, in the steely twilight of a sum-
mer night, and one, the master, was below, a
prisoner. The submarine was running awash.
Astern, the abandoned ship loomed momently
more dim. In the minds of every one of those
forty-three seamen there dwelt a terrible ap-
prehension.
The attack on the Belgian Prince followed the
usual routine. She was struck, without warn-
ing, by a torpedo. It was then about eight
o'clock on the evening of July 31st, 1917, and
the ship was two hundred miles from the north
coast of Ireland. The master called away the
boats, and the crew embarked, leaving the mas-
ter on board to clear up his affairs. The port
lifeboat put back and took him off. The Ger-
man submarine emerged and opened fire from
her machine-gun upon the ship 's aerials, which
she destroyed. Then the commanding officer
of the submarine ordered the two boats along-
side, took the master on board, and sent him
265
266 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
below, ordering all the crew on board. They
were received with furious abuse by the Ger-
mans, who searched their captives, taking from
them all their possessions. Money and other
articles of value the pirates pocketed; other
things they hove overboard. In the meantime
a working party took everything out of the
boats. The compasses and provisions were put
into the submarine. Oars, gratings, bailers and
all loose gear were thrown overboard. The two
lifeboats were damaged by axes. The plugs
were removed, and they were left to sink. The
master's dinghy was retained. Several Ger-
mans pulled her over to the ship, in which they
remained.
These things the crew of the Belgian Prince
beheld, contemplating, while they were being
violently robbed, the destruction of their last
hope of escape.
The commanding officer of the submarine, a
fair, bearded man of thirty-five or so, ordered
the seamen to take off their lifebelts and place
them on the deck. Then he strode along the
deck, among the men, whom he cursed, kicking
the lifebelts overboard. But four men at least
contrived to hide their lifebelts under their
coats.
From the Belgian Prince, in which were the
Germans who had gone to her in the dinghy, a
signal flashed. The submarine got under way;
the captives, as already described, were crowded
on her deck, as her engines slowly ground her
through the water. So, for about half an hour.
Then there came another signal flashed from
CASE OF THE "BELGIAN PRINCE" 267
the place where the ship lay shrouded in the
thickening dark. Instantly the German officer
on the conning-tower disappeared, and the steel
hatch clanged to over his head.
The submarine began to sink.
The doubt haunting the forty-three seamen
suddenly took shape in a certainty, the cer-
tainty of death. The water lipped upon the
deck, the water covered their feet. Then they
leaped into the sea.
The chief engineer, the cook, a Russian sea-
man and the little apprentice, who had con-
trived to keep their lifebelts, struck out for the
distant ship. The little apprentice held on to
the chief engineer. The cook and the Russian
were separated from the chief engineer and the
apprentice, and from each other, though all
were steering for where they thought the ship
lay. The thirty-nine men they left were never
seen again.
The chief engineer, holding up the apprentice,
swam steadily on, resting at intervals. The
boy grew heavier and heavier, his strokes
weaker and weaker, and by the time the grey
dawn lightened the desolate sea, he was uncon-
scious. The ice-cold water killed him. The
chief engineer went on alone.
He saw the Belgian Prince, listing over to
port, when, as he reckoned, he was still a mile
and a half away from her. It was then about
half-past five on the morning of August 1st,
1917. The chief engineer saw a bright flame
leap from the after part of the ship, saw her
go down stern first.
268 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
The chief engineer, who makes no remark
concerning his emotions at that moment, con-
tinued to swim ; and presently he saw smoke on
the horizon, and swam desperately towards it.
A little after, he was picked up by a patrol boat.
The cook, following his own course, also came
in sight of the Belgian Prince about the same
time as the chief engineer sighted her. He also
saw the ship sink; and then he perceived the
submarine, and swam away. He was picked
up by the patrol boat.
The Russian seaman swam faster than the
other two men, and actually reached the Bel-
gian Prince at about five o'clock, after about
eight hours in the water. For the moment, at
least, he was saved; but he was still haunted
by a doubt. Numbed and exhausted, he strug-
gled on board, shifted into dry clothing, and
ate and drank. And then he saw the subma-
rine again. She was coming alongside.
The Russian ran aft, and hiding himself,
watched the submarine stop and lie alongside,
saw three or four Germans climb on board.
There was nothing else for it — the Russian low-
ered himself into the water again, and hung on
beside the rudder. For all he knew the Ger-
mans might be about sinking the ship.
But for the moment they were looting her,
passing stores, clothing and provisions into the
submarine. The Russian watched them for
about twenty minutes. Then the submarine
stood off and fired two shells into the ship. She
broke in two and sank. The submarine dived
and so departed.
CASE OF THE "BELGIAN PRINCE" 269
The Eussian, fighting for his life in the swirl
of water and driving wreckage, saw the mas-
ter's dinghy, which had been left adrift by the
submarine. He swam to it, climbed in, and lay
there until the patrol boat picked him up.
There were forty-four people in the Belgian
Prince. The crew numbered forty-two, includ-
ing the master, and there were two negro stow-
aways. The master was taken prisoner; three
were saved because they outwitted the German
murderers; forty were drowned. Deprived of
their boats, robbed of their possessions,
stripped of their lifebelts, they were mustered
on board the German submarine and drawn
down to certain death.
Then the commanding officer of the subma-
rine having, as he thought, slain all witnesses of
his crimes, returned to plunder his prey, the de-
serted ship. He did not know the sturdy Eus-
sian seaman was watching him from behind the
rudder. Or that two more witnesses were
within gunshot.
Whether he knew it or not, that submarine
officer achieved the lowest deep of iniquity un-
til then touched even by Germans on the sea.
There may, of course, be worse to come; the
civilised nations are hardly competent to esti-
mate the possibilities; but, even now, the Ger-
mans at sea have done that which shall not be
forgotten till the sea runs dry.
XLIV
Expectation and Event
To voyage at night in submarine-haunted
waters is to snatch every minute from fate.
For the submarine at night approaches unseen,
delivers the blow in the dark, and vanishes un-
seen. Therefore to all on board the venturing
ship the thing may happen at any moment ; also
it may not; and so they live from moment to
moment; watching the grains slip through the
hour-glass and wondering when the invisible
hand will turn the glass upside down. Such, in
fact, is the state of suspense of their under con-
sciousness. But their active intelligence is em-
ployed about the work of the ship, which is in-
cessant, and which brings fatigue which brings
sleep.
There are, of course, the forces which man
always marshals against the unknown. There
is fatalism, the theory that no man dies before
his time, and that when his time comes, die he
will. And what is perhaps more common, the
old defiant stoicism of the seaman. But under-
neath is always the cruel suspense. It is mas-
tered, but it is there.
The lookout man on the forecastle and aloft
in the crow's-nest; the helmsman, spinning his
270
EXPECTATION AND EVENT 271
wheel, his eyes on the compass-dial ; the officers
on the bridge, scanning the field of water, peer-
ing into the dark, and aware of the whole liv-
ing organism of the ship beating like a heart be-
neath their feet; the men in the engine-room,
tending the smooth, swift and obedient ma-
chinery; the men in the stokehold, amid the
steady roar of the furnaces, heaving coal into
the flaming caverns ; the deck hands, each man
silent at his post; the gunners, standing by
their gun aft; each and all know their hazard.
But of all men on board the master wars with
the most formidable adversary, for all depend
on him. He dare not relax for a moment.
Should the crash come, it is the master who
must give the instant orders, and the slightest
hesitation or the least mistake will lose the lives
of men. He has rehearsed in his mind every
contingency over and over again ; he has trained
and practised crew and passengers ; there is no
more to be done than to wait. And in waiting,
he cannot afford to sleep; and yet he cannot
afford not to sleep. Many a master is six days
and nights on the bridge with intervals of an
hour or two hours.
If his ship carries troops, the master knows
at least that in case of emergency he can rely
upon their conduct. He also knows, if that is
any solace to him, that once on board a ship, a
soldier divests himself of care. Once he crosses
the rail, the seaman takes charge of him. His
mind is at ease. Whatever happens, he is not
responsible. He has but to obey orders.
So, on the night of 2nd-3rd June, 1917, the
272 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
troops sailing in the steamship Cameronian
went to their hammocks with much of the com-
posure of the Government mules stalled on the
decks beneath, which they had just fed and
watered and tucked up for the night. But the
mules did not know that for them there was no
chance of escape.
The soldiers went to sleep, and the seamen
watched. Some forty soldiers passed from
sleep to death in a flood of water filling the
troop-deck in an instant. The torpedo struck
the ship at half -past three in the morning.
When a vessel is prepared, the chance of sav-
ing life varies according to the time she takes
to sink. Therefore the master arranges his or-
ganisation to work in the shortest period in
which all (or nearly all) can be saved, which is
about five minutes. The Cameronicm sank in
live minutes.
The first difficulty is to stop the ship so that
the boats may be the more safely lowered. The
momentum of a vessel of some 6,000 tons can-
not be checked in a moment. The master of the
Cameronicm stopped the engines instantly, but
as the ship began rapidly to sink by the stern,
the boats must be manned immediately. The
crew ran to their boat stations, while the bugles
called and the soldiers, those who escaped from
the inundation below, came tumbling up, to fall
in under the officers ' orders with the precision
of parade. The ship was still sliding forward,
the decks tilting up from the stern to the bows.
The five boats were orderly filled and three
were lowered to the calm sea. But ere the two
EXPECTATION AND EVENT 273
remaining boats touched the water, the ship
went down, capsizing the boats. As she sank,
the men leaped from the boats into the water.
The exact sequence of events is here obscure,
but from the little evidence available, it is clear
that the men in the other three boats, coming
to the rescue of the men in the water, discovered
that there were men pinned down beneath the
capsized boats. Before these heavy sea-boats
could be righted the men beneath them would
drown. The rescuers, with admirable resource,
promptly smashed in the planks of the capsized
boats, presumably using the looms of their oars,
and hauled three men through the aperture.
Many a man has been trapped beneath a cap-
sized boat; it must be seldom, indeed, that a
way of escape has been suddenly burst through
the bottom of the boat.
The people of the Cameronicm, in the dawn of
a summer morning, were now adrift upon the
Mediterranean, some fifty miles from Malta.
The expected had happened ; the suspense was
over; the sands in the hour-glass were again
trickling steadily. It was fair weather and
there was no immediate apprehension. But the
master of the Cameronicm, to whose vigilance
and foresight the survivors owed their lives,
was drowned ; and drowned were the chief engi-
neer, eight men, and the two gunners of the
Cameronicm, together with the soldiers who had
been asleep on the troop deck; eighty-three in
all.
The boats were picked up by his Majesty's
ships and all on board were safely landed.
XLV
Quick Eye and Ready Hand
On May 9th, 1917, the steamship Malda was
in the North Sea. It was one of those grey
spring days, when the smooth sea and the still
sky are suffused with an uniform light. The
master, the chief officer, the second officer, who
was on watch, and the pilot were on the bridge ;
men were posted to look out in the crow's-nest
on the foremast, on the top of the chart house,
on the upper bridge, and beside the gun aft.
Among these was a cadet, and he alone
sighted the track of a torpedo ruffling the water
about three points abaft the port beam and
travelling directly towards the ship. The cadet
hailed the officer of the watch, who on the word
put the helm hard a-port, at the same instant
ringing the engine-room telegraph to full speed.
Then all the watchers, eagerly staring, saw
the torpedo glimmer past the ship close under
the stern.
The ship was saved.
The master sent out wireless messages, in
reply to which an escort was sent, and the next
day the Malda arrived in port.
274
XLVI
Panic
When the torpedo struck the steamship
Locksley Hall, she was between thirty and forty
miles from Malta, steaming at abont nine knots.
The second officer, who was on watch, sighted
the track of a torpedo abont 500 yards away
from the ship on the starboard side. He put
the helm over instantly; but it was at an un-
lucky moment; for the vessel was changing
from one zig-zag course to another, and ere she
could fully answer the alteration in the helm,
the torpedo exploded in the engine-room.
The fourth engineer and five of the engine-
room crew were killed; the engines were shat-
tered; the after deck was flooded and a huge
column of water mixed with wreckage rose high
into the air, the starboard lifeboat being lifted
some fifty feet.
There were fifty-one natives in the crew of
sixty-two. Instantly after the explosion a mob
of natives swarmed upon deck and into the
boats, without stopping to pick up lifebelts.
The master and the officers ordered them out
of the boats, and they refused to budge. As
275
276 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
the way was slowing-off the vessel, the master
and the officers themselves lowered the boats,
crammed with the dark men, the whites of whose
eyes showed like the eyes of terrified animals.
The master, cool and composed, sent the sec-
ond engineer, the third officer and the chief gun-
ner one after the other to see that all had come
up from the engine-room ; and, having satisfied
himself on that point, ordered all remaining on
board into the boats.
He stayed on board, as he thought, alone.
Having attended to the destruction of his con-
fidential papers and to other details, the master
found that in the wreck and confusion some of
the native crew had taken refuge in the port
dinghy, which was still hanging to the davits.
The chief steward was faithfully standing by
the boat. The master ordered him into it, and
after some persuasion, induced one of the na-
tives to leave the boat and to take one of the
falls. The master took the other, when the de-
bilitated native let go. Those in the boat cut
the falls just in time to prevent her from cap-
sizing.
The master, the last to leave the ship, got
into the dinghy. By that time the after deck
of the sinking vessel was nearly level with the
water.
The master pulled across to the other two
boats, and gave to them certain instructions.
It was then about a quarter past one, half
an hour since the ship had been torpedoed. A
few minutes later the submarine leisurely
emerged about half a mile away, and fired five
PANIC 277
rounds into the Locksley Hall. The submarine
then drew near to the boats, and her command-
ing officer demanded the person of the master.
But being unable to discover him, the German
requested the usual information concerning ship
and cargo, and then diverted himself by taking
photographs of his victims. When he had quite
finished, he drew away towards the Locksley
Hall, fired four more shots into her, and then
departed.
The boats remained where they were, the
crew watching their ship settling down. Pres-
ently she thrust her bows perpendicularly into
the air and so sank.
The boats were picked up next day.
XLVII
Nine Steadfast Men
In the steamship City of Corinth every officer
and man on deck was keeping a look-out. She
had come all the way from Japan, and now, at
a little after five o'clock on the afternoon of
May 21st, 1917, the ship was off the Lizard, in
sight of home.
The haze of a spring twilight hung in the
windless air, so that the ship, steaming at thir-
teen knots, moved in a clear circle of about six
miles ' diameter, across a smooth sea ; and if the
lines of vision were palpable, they would be
seen radiating like the spokes of a wheel from
the eyes of the gazing men on deck, incessantly
travelling upon the shining field of sea. But
nothing married its silken levels.
The chief officer on the bridge felt a shock and
heard a thud. The blow so long pending had
been struck. The master, who was at the foot
of the ladder, sprang up it to the bridge and
rang full speed astern, to take off the way of
the ship. Then he ordered the wireless oper-
ator to send out a message giving the ship's
position.
278
NINE STEADFAST MEN 279
At the same moment the chief engineer below
saw the water pouring from the tunnel, the long
steel passage in which the propeller shaft re-
volves. He turned on the men to force the tun-
nel door shut and to get the pumps going. The
third engineer went to the gun mounted aft.
The ship listed to port, settled down a little
aft, and then hung where she was.
But while the officers and the white men
among the crew were swiftly doing their duty,
the Lascars and Chinese scrambled headlong
into the boats and lowered them. Within two
or three minutes of the explosion one boat got
away. The chief officer, standing by the rail,
shouting his orders (with what emphasis may
be imagined) induced the men in the other three
boats to hold on alongside.
The second and third engineers, who were
both sick men, were lowered into the boats.
The master, at his post on the bridge, swiftly
surveyed the situation, and decided, in spite of
the desertion of the native and Chinese crew,
to try to make the land. For aught he knew,
there was no one left in the engine-room. He
rang the telegraph, and receiving an instant re-
ply from the chief engineer, ordered full speed
ahead, and steered for the land inside the Liz-
ard. With a powerful head of steam the ship
began to move ; and at the same time the wire-
less operator received messages saying that
help was on its way.
The third engineer, having left the gun and
gone below to fetch some clothes, found the
water flooding the engine-room, and was dis-
280 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
patched by the chief engineer to report the po-
sition to the master.
Baffled in his seamanlike attempt to make the
shore, the master rang down to the engine-room,
stop, then, finished with engines, and sent the
second officer to make snre that all below came
on deck.
The chief engineer was instrncted to get into
one of the boats. In the meantime, the ship
was settling down. When the after deck was
within a foot of the water, the master ordered
the boats to pull away from the vessel for two
or three hundred yards and there to remain.
There were thus left on board the sinking
ship: the master, who was on the bridge, the
chief officer, ranging the decks, the wireless op-
erator, sticking by his instrnment, and stand-
ing by the gun, the two gunners, three engineers
and the carpenter.
These officers and men were taking a double
risk. The ship might go down under them as
she was, or she might be sunk by a second tor-
pedo, which might also kill or wound those on
board.
But a patrol boat was in sight; there was
still a chance, if the submarine emerged, of hit-
ting her with a shot from the ship's gun; and
there was even a vanishing chance of saving the
ship.
So the master, the chief officer, the wireless
operator, the two gunners, the three engineers,
and the carpenter, nine steadfast men, stayed
by their ship. They saw, a long way off, an-
other steamer, which appeared to be in distress.
NINE STEADFAST MEN 281
The next thing was that the chief engineer in
the boat, which was hanging off and on not far
from the ship, heard the gasp and hiss of com-
pressed air escaping, and recognised the sound
of the firing of a torpedo under water close be-
neath him.
At the same moment, the watchers in the ship
saw a periscope and fired at it; and as they
fired, the second torpedo struck the ship in the
engine-room, exploding with tremendous vio-
lence.
The men in the ship, dazed by the shock and
with water and wreckage falling all about them,
felt the deck under their feet going down and
down. The master, cool and unhurried, hailed
the boat nearest to the ship to come alongside,
and hove overboard his confidential papers.
The nine men slid into the boat, which backed
hard off, and cleared the ship. She turned over
and sank by the stern.
The people in the boats saw a number of pa-
trol boats gathering about the distant ship
which had appeared to be sinking, and then the
patrol boat which had been first sighted came
up and took them into port.
XLVIII
Carnage
At a little after six o 'clock on the morning of
May 26th, 1917, a submarine opened fire at long
range upon the steamship Umaria.
The master instantly ordered fire to be
opened in reply. The gunner of the Umaria
had fired five rounds when the striker of the
gun broke, and the gun was made useless.
Then the master employed smoke-boxes, as his
last resource, in the hope of obscuring the aim
of the enemy; but nevertheless his shells fell
fast and deadly.
One shell killed a native and wounded several
firemen and two cadets. Another smashed a
lifeboat, and with it a native who had fled into
it for refuge. A splinter broke the thigh of
the fourth engineer. The steering gear was
struck, and the ship went out of control.
It was then about three-quarters of an hour
since the action had begun. The master decided
to abandon the ship. The engineers were called
up from below, and the boats were lowered un-
der continuous fire from the enemy. Three life-
boats were got away. As the gig was being
282
CARNAGE 28S
lowered the master was struck on the shoulder
by a splinter. While those about him were
dressing the wound as best they could, the gig
drifted away from the ship. In the gig were
the wounded and helpless fourth engineer, the
second engineer, two cadets, a gunner, a native
fireman, and a saloon boy : seven in all.
The gig's crew began to row back towards
the ship, whereupon the submarine, which
mounted a four-inch gun, fired on them. The
fourth engineer received another frightful in-
jury; the second engineer had his leg smashed
and other hurts ; one of the cadets was hit in the
arm and in the leg; the gunner was wounded
in several places, the native had two wounds
and the saloon boy was slightly hurt. There
remained but one person in the boat, a cadet,
untouched.
Those who had stayed by the master got into
the boat, which was ordered by the commanding
officer of the submarine to come alongside. The
German informed the chief officer that he had
taken prisoner the second officer, the third en-
gineer, and a cadet, and he demanded the per-
son of the master.
The master held his peace. The chief officer
told the German that the master was badly
wounded, whereupon the German took the chief
engineer on board the submarine, and in his
stead released the third engineer.
The commanding officer of the submarine,
leaning on the rail of the conning tower, looked
down upon his victims.
Crouched upon the thwarts in the sunlight,
284 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
up to their knees in the water, which, stained
crimson, was flowing through the shell-holes in
the planking, soaked with blood, holding their
wounds, staring with hunted eyes, was the heap
of stricken men.
The German ordered the boat away. The
shore was fifteen miles distant. There were no
more than three men in the boat who could pull
an oar: the chief officer, the third officer, and
the third engineer who had been released from
the submarine. Without appliances, crowded
together in the waterlogged boat, they made
what shift they could to dress the wounded.
Then they rowed towards the shore.
It was about eight o 'clock when they left the
submarine. They saw the submarine firing at
the deserted ship, which sank about 9.30 a.m.
Before that time the fourth engineer, who had
twice been so dreadfully wounded, died. For
over six interminable, tormented hours the boat
was adrift, the sun beating more and more
fiercely upon the wounded men, who had neither
food nor water, and whose hurts were stiffening,
so that the slightest movement was agony.
Then an Italian rowing-boat came up, and
towed the wretched men to a patrol vessel, into
which they were taken. The patrol boat had
already picked up the other three boats. A
fireman died on the way to an Italian port,
where the survivors were treated with every
kindness. Afterwards they were transferred to
another town, and here the ladies of the Eng-
lish colony tended them.
XLIX
Unavoidable
On May 30th, 1917, the steamship Bathurst,
in company with the steamship Hanley, home-
ward bound, was about ninety miles from the
south-west coast of Ireland. The Bathurst was
unarmed. The Hanley mounted a gun for the
defence of both vessels ; she was keeping station
on the port side of the Bathurst, about half a
mile away from her. The weather was fine and
clear and the sea a flat calm. On board the
Bathurst the whole of the officers and men on
deck were keeping a look-out.
Early in the afternoon, the people in the
Bathurst saw a fountain of water, mingled with
black smoke, flung up on the port side of the
Hanley, and observed her to slow down and
presently to stop. It was, of course, obvious to
the master of the Bathurst that the Hanley had
been attacked by an invisible enemy submarine.
To go to the assistance of the Hanley would
have involved the loss of the Bathurst. In these
emergencies each ship must look after herself.
As matters stood, the Bathurst was in immi-
nent danger; and the chance of saving her de-
pended upon the instant action of the master.
285
286 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
Her helm was put over, and she was kept on at
full speed, steering a zig-zag course.
About half an hour later, when the distance
separating the two vessels had increased to
three miles, the master of the Bathurst per-
ceived, ruffling the water, a track beginning
from under the stern of the Hartley and coming
to about a mile astern of the Bathurst. The
next moment a submarine emerged, and in-
stantly opened fire at a range of about 2,000
yards. The master of the Bathurst kept her at
full speed, until several times shells had ex-
ploded on her decks. His ship was unarmed and
she could not escape; the Hanley, which
mounted a gun, was already torpedoed ; and the
master of the Bathurst had no choice but to
abandon her. He blew two long blasts on the
whistle, and ordered the crew into the boats;
waited until the way was off the ship, and or-
dered the boats to be lowered. One of the four
boats had been damaged by shell fire, and the
master took the men in her aboard his own boat.
In the meantime the submarine continued her
fire. As the boats of the Bathurst pulled away
from the ship, the men in them saw that the dis-
tant Hanley was settling down in the water, and
that her boats were pulling away from her.
The submarine continued to fire at the Bath-
urst until she also began to settle down. Then
the submarine approached the boats of the
Bathurst; the commanding officer of the sub-
marine ordered the master's boat alongside;
and demanded information concerning both
ships and their cargoes. The German officer
UNAVOIDABLE 287
ordered the master of the Bathurst to deliver to
him the ship's papers and chronometers. The
master told him that these had been left on
board the Bathurst. At this point one of the
seamen on board the submarine reported to the
German officer that other vessels were ap-
proaching, whereupon the submarine hastily-
got under way and went astern at full speed
towards the Bathurst. She fired a torpedo into
the Bathurst, striking her amidships, went
swiftly across to the Hanley, fired another tor-
pedo into her, and then went away, steering
westward.
Ere the submarine was out of sight, the men
in the boats sighted the smoke of two vessels
coming swiftly towards them from the eastward,
and soon afterwards two patrol boats hove into
view, passed the boats at full speed, and went
on in pursuit of the submarine, firing as they
went.
It was then about four o'clock in the after-
noon. The men in the boats saw the Bathurst
sink, and shortly afterwards saw the Hanley go
down also. The master of the Bathurst or-
dered sail to be set on the boats, and the course
to be set towards the land. The men in the
boats of the Hartley were left behind for the
time being. Soon afterwards they were picked
up by the patrol boats, which afterwards picked
up the boats of the Bathurst.
Quite 0. K.
The report of the master of the Miniota de-
serves to be recorded in his own words ; for he
owns a right English style, as forthright, terse,
and idiomatic as the sturdy diction of that mas-
ter of narrative, Sir Eoger L 'Estrange.
So here is the story of the master of the
Miniota:
I beg leave to report that at 3.40 p.m. June
4th, 1917, in (such and such) a latitude and
longitude, we sighted a submarine, bearing
down upon us from our port beam, and firing
as she approached. We brought her astern and
opened fire in return. Finding her shots were
falling short of us, as also ours of her, we
ceased firing, with a view to allowing her to
overtake us somewhat, and so to bring her
within range. Later, finding her shots were
falling unpleasantly near, we opened fire on
her, and found that we just had her within
range, our last shot only missing her by a few
yards. She evidently did not relish taking any
further chances, for she opened her broadside
288
QUITE O.K. 289
to us, fired both guns, and dived. So the inci-
dent closed with what we considered vantage to
us. We expended thirty rounds in the duel, to
somewhere about fifty to sixty rounds of the
enemy.
At about 7 p.m., we noticed that an American
ship, which was about three and a half miles
away on our port bow, appeared to be in diffi-
culties. We were overtaking her fast, and on
closer inspection found that she had stopped.
We concluded that she had been hit, and that
doubtless the submarine would be endeavouring
to bring off a double event, in view of which we
put our helm hard a-port, and, while swinging
round to it, sighted his periscope some 200 or
300 yards away, aft of our beam.
There is no doubt that the submarine, on get-
ting a view of us through her periscope, found
herself in a false position for attack, being right
under our gun. So she wisely submerged,
swirled the water up twice under our stern, but
did not show herself, realising that, with a
point-blank bead on her, she was at our mercy.
In the meantime, our wireless operator inter-
cepted a brief message from the American, say-
ing that she was sinking. Concluding that
there was something amiss with her wireless
installation, we sent out a message for her, giv-
ing her position and saying that her boats were
in the water.
However, the time spent by the submarine
paying her attentions to us gave the American
ship the opportunity of putting her house in
order. Doubtless finding that she was not as
290 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
badly wounded as she had thought, and not be-
ing further attacked, she had started to hoist
her boats in, and was steaming slowly ahead.
Next we saw the submarine come to the surface
some distance astern of her, and circle round
on her port side, whence she started shelling
the American ship, which replied. The shelling
went on for some time.
The American ship appeared to be hit several
times, eventually ceased firing and steamed
away. So far as we could see she was not much
the worse for the encounter.
The next day the American ship sent out a
message to the effect that she had sunk the sub-
marine and that everything was quite O.K. with
her, so that, accepting such to be the case, it fol-
lows that the submarine, in her greed to take
the two of us, lost both, and herself to boot.
I would wish to state that the morale of our
ship's company left nothing to be desired. Our
gunners, when once they got into their stride,
were quick on the trigger, and most accurate
in their fire.
Thus the master of the Miniota, thus and no
more. He outmanoeuvred and outfought the
enemy, stood by his American friend, took his
chances and saved his ship, all with a cheerful
zest and a mind at ease. Another German
shark was sent to the bottom and "everything
was quite O.K."
LI
The Chase by Night
At nine o'clock on the evening of June 8th,
1917, the steamship Akabo, homeward bound,
was about 250 miles west of Land's End. It
was a grey evening, the sea running in a gentle
swell from the north-west. On the forecastle
head, in the crow's nest, on the bridge, aft,
and along the rail amidships, men, vigilant and
motionless, scanned the sea, marking every
ripple and shadow. Among the watchers were
four passengers, who had volunteered for duty.
One man, or several men, sighted a periscope,
the little black oblong hove up on the surface.
As the cry went up the master had his foot on
the ladder of the lower bridge. The periscope
was then half a point abaft the starboard beam
and about 400 yards away.
The master sprang up to the navigating
bridge and ordered the helm to be put hard
over. The Akabo, which was steaming at about
twelve knots, instantly answered to the helm,
and swung round until the submarine was about
four points on the starboard quarter. Then,
those looking out on the starboard side saw a
291
292 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
torpedo glide past, the swerving of the vessel
having saved her. The master rang down to the
engine-room to make all possible speed, and
signalled to the gunners that there was a sub-
marine on the starboard quarter.
The conning tower of the submarine emerged.
Fire was opened upon it from the Akabo, and
the submarine dived swiftly. The master of the
Akabo kept her at full speed, constantly alter-
ing course, and, for the time being, the subma-
rine was no more seen.
The master increased the number of look-
outs, and so held on his course for nearly three
hours.
It was almost midnight when a look-out aft
sighted a submarine on the port quarter. The
people on the bridge were unable to see the
enemy, but, as the alarm was given, the helm
was put hard over, and full speed was main-
tained. At the same moment, according to the
statement of the crew looking aft, they heard
the cough and hiss of the firing of a torpedo,
and a few moments later, they reported that a
second torpedo had been fired.
The gunners of the Akabo opened fire on the
submarine, and the second shot exploded with
a sound as of the impact of metal on metal,
indicating that the conning tower of the sub-
marine had been struck. But the damage in-
flicted was evidently not serious, for the look-
out aft continued to report from time to time
that a submarine had been sighted ; and at each
report the master altered course in order to
bring the submarine astern.
THE CHASE BY NIGHT 293
At about half-past two in the morning, the
watchers perceived a rough glitter patching the
smooth dark swell, and knew that the phos-
phorescence betrayed the hunting submarine.
Then, her periscope stuck forth from the light
patch about 400 yards off the starboard beam
of the Alcabo. The master once more put her
helm hard over. The next moment a torpedo
was seen by the people on the bridge to pass
the vessel and to disappear towards the port
bow. Again the swift manoeuvring of the Aba-
ft o foiled the enemy. The gunners fired three
shots at the periscope, which again submerged.
Soon afterwards the lights of the coast were
sighted, and the master of the Akabo altered
course to close two men-of-war.
At daylight the Akabo was met by a destroyer
of the United States Navy, which escorted her
out of the danger zone.
The master reports that the behaviour of the
passengers and crew was admirable.
The case of the Akabo is an example of what
can be done by means of strict vigilance and
skilled seamanship. We are now a long way
from the early experiences of the war at sea,
when the mercantile marine faced the unseen
enemy, unarmed and unprepared. We now re-
mark officers and men owning a gun and the
skill to use it, practised in the wiles of the
enemy, knowing what he will do, and how to
prevent him from doing it, and ready for all
contingencies. The submarine shows herself at
her peril.
LII
The Second Chance
When the City of Exeter struck a mine, she
was within some twenty miles of a port on the
west coast of India.
The master, acting upon the plan arranged
by him beforehand to meet all contingencies,
set his organisation in motion.
As the ship was settling down by the head,
the master had first to secure the safety of
passengers and crew; and secondly, to combine
with that precaution an opportunity for saving
the ship should she remain afloat.
Accordingly, he ordered the six lifeboats to
be manned and lowered, and then to remain
near by the ship. If she sank, the boats were
to steer for the land.
Crew and passengers, numbering 181 in all,
orderly embarked and stood by. The whole of
the engine room staff, knowing that the ship
might founder at any moment, remained at
their posts below, until they received orders to
come on deck.
Now when a crew have once quitted an in-
jured ship, which may be sinking, they are at
294
THE SECOND CHANCE 295
once released from the stress of imminent dan-
ger. They definitely end one episode, and begin
another, perhaps of an equal danger, but of a
different danger. To ask men to return to the
original peril, is to ask them to reverse in a
moment the whole current of their mind, and
to make a great call upon their constancy and
courage. Here is one reason why it is essential
to make a plan beforehand and to impart it to
the crew. Their minds are then prepared for
all requisite action ; leaving the ship becomes a
provisional instead of a final measure; and if
they are required to return to the vessel, al-
though the order needs no less courage to exe-
cute, it has the quality of the expected.
So the six lifeboats, filled with crew and
passengers, lay off on the heaving sea, in the
thick rain, and contemplated the wounded ship,
rolling there, settling down by the bows, melan-
choly and alone. They waited thus for an hour.
Then the master ordered all to come on board
again ; and as orderly as they had embarked in
the boats, crew and passengers drew alongside
the City of Exeter, hooked on the falls, hauled
up the boats, secured them to the davits, and
proceeded each to his post.
The master ordered slow speed and continued
on his course. There were thirty-four feet of
water in No. 1 hold, and for aught the master
knew, its bulkheads might give way at any
moment under the immense additional pressure.
Had a bulkhead burst, another hold would have
been flooded, and then in all probability another,
and the ship must have gone. down.
296 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
But the bulkheads held from minute to min-
ute, for the rest of the day. It was about half-
past nine in the morning when the City of Ex-
eter began to nose through the tropical rain
whelming sea and sky. Hour after hour she
crawled on at between two and three knots, and
in the afternoon the master picked up the land.
By six o 'clock he had anchored in the harbour,
"without any outside assistance." The ship
was then drawing thirty-four feet forward, and
twenty- two feet six inches aft.
' ' I have much pleasure, ' ' reports the master,
"in stating that all members of the crew, both
European and native, behaved splendidly dur-
ing the trying time. ' '
Students of the affair will appreciate the
conduct of the master himself, concerning which
he says nothing.
Lin
Hard Pressed
When the steamship Holywell was approach-
ing the entrance to the English Channel, the
master sighted a submarine, about two miles
away on the starboard beam.
The master was ready, the crew were ready,
and many things happened simultaneously on
board the Holywell. The course was altered,
the men ran to their stations, the wireless oper-
ator sent out a message, and the gunners opened
fire on the enemy. Such are the results produced
by a submarine within a few seconds of her
appearance. Her quarry swerves, she gets a
shell about her ears, and her position is made
known with the speed of lightning to all whom
it may concern. Thus it happened on June 11th,
1917, at 7.15 in the morning.
The gunners of the Holywell fired two rounds.
Then the submarine dived until her hull was
under water, leaving her two masts and peri-
scope projecting. As she was running sub-
merged her speed dropped, and the master of
the Holywell drew away from her. Observe
now one of the incidental advantages of mount-
397
298 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
ing an adequate gun. The submarine, forced to
run under water for fear of being hit, thereby
decreases her speed from eighteen to twenty-
knots to about twelve.
The master, during the chase, observed no
torpedo, but two of the native crew reported
that they saw a torpedo pass astern of the
ship.
By about half-past nine, or some two hours
after the submarine had been sighted, she had
disappeared.
The master held on till a quarter-past two,
when a submarine emerged no more than the
ship's length away, abreast of the engine-room
on the port side. Here was a very near thing
indeed. Over went the helm of the Holywell,
the enemy 's torpedo passed within ten feet of
the ship's stern, and at the same moment the
gunner fired, his second shot exploding just
over the submarine. Wireless messages were
sent, and the firemen below double-banked the
furnaces. The submarine went under. She
stepped one mast, not two; so that she was
probably a different vessel from the first sub-
marine sighted.
During her attack, the master sighted yet
another submarine five miles away on the port
quarter. The gunner opened fire upon her. His
three shots fell short. The submarine replied
with twelve shots, all of which fell short, but
they struck the water no more than the ship's
length astern.
The master of the Holywell, conversing with
the authorities by wireless, held on, steering
HARD PRESSED 299
through a melancholy and a significant field of
wreckage. At seven in the evening, one of his
Majesty's ships picked him up and escorted him
until dark. The master went on alone until
four o'clock the next morning, when another
ship of war escorted him into port.
It is due to the master that his admirable
organisation worked with so swift a precision
that he beat off and escaped from three enemies
in one day. Conceive now the extraordinary
tension of the unwinking vigilance required of
the master, who must remain on the bridge by
day and by night, and whose slightest relaxa-
tion may lose his ship. But he saved her.
LIV
Quite Interesting
The following brief and spirited narrative
was related by the master of the steamship
Hawerford, upon reporting his arrival at an
English port on June 13th, 1917 :
The voyage, which was uneventful until we
approached the coast, became quite interesting
when we saw a submarine on the surface some
distance away. Unfortunately, we had no op-
portunity of demonstrating our ability with the
gun, because our escort, which was more advan-
tageously armed, opened fire, and the submarine
dived.
About four and a half hours later, the look-out
in the crow's-nest and the gunlayer aft both re-
ported "torpedo on starboard quarter.' ' The
second officer, who was in charge of the watch,
acted promptly, ordering the helm hard a-star-
board. The torpedo passed under the stern, and
so close to the ship along the port side that we
put the helm the other way for fear of taking
the torpedo on our port bow.
The look-out man and the gunner had previ-
ously been noted for their vigilance. I cannot
speak too highly of the presence of mind and
effective right action, at the critical moment, of
the second officer.
300
QUITE INTERESTING 301
Our escort, upon leaving us, semaphored
"Good-bye and good luck. I hope you will
always be as skilful and lucky in dodging them. ' '
I consider myself exceedingly fortunate in
having that skilful assistance which enables me
to report our safe arrival ; and I am proud, but
not surprised, to report that the crew to a man
maintained the best tradition of the service.
So much for the master's account of the mat-
ter. Those who are acquainted with the nar-
ratives of the Elizabethan seamen will recog-
nise the right English ring of the same metal.
We had thought the trick of it was lost, and
marvelled at the Elizabethan accomplishment.
But now it seems that the old fire was but
smothered under the ashes of modern commer-
cialism, dead to all but money-making ; that the
business of shoving a ship from port to port
and back again to make profits for shareholders,
had killed the spirit of the sea. But when it
comes to fighting, and the huckster takes sec-
ond place, the ancient pride shines forth again.
The master of the Haver ford says nothing of
the five hours' vigil between the first attack
and the second. Only those who have stood on
deck, staring at the troubled and secret water,
know in what the stress consists. If it were
always possible to sight the enemy before he
attacked, or even to sight the torpedo, the sus-
pense would be strain enough. But the watch-
ers know that the ship may be struck at any
moment, without a premonitory sign.
LV
Short and Sharp
Early in the morning of June 12th, 1917, the
steamship Quillota, approaching the entrance to
the English Channel, was firing steadily at a
long, low, hnmped target some six miles distant.
It was a large submarine; from her belched
flame and smoke, and her projectiles, striking
the sea astern of the Quillota, threw up white
fountains. The guns crashed, the ship shook as
she sped, and the fountains danced in her wake,
for a wild ten minutes. Then the gunner of the
Quillota saw his target diminish and presently
disappear. The submarine had dived. The
Quillota was untouched.
Presently, the master descried three boats
adrift and full of people, all that was left of
some tall ship. The first duty of a master in
times of piracy is, not to save others but, to save
his ship. For all the master of the Quillota
knew, a submarine was lurking near the boats,
ready to fire a torpedo into the Quillota did she
stay to pick them up. Such is the custom of the
pirates.
So the master of the Quillota had no choice
but to hold on. He sent a wireless message; re-
ceived an answer; and presently two of his
Majesty's ships came foaming along. They
302
SHORT AND SHARP 303
picked up the boats, and one of them came after
the Quillota and escorted her npon her way.
Here is an instance of the whole organisation
working to the defeat of the enemy. The sub-
marine is beaten off by gun-fire ; the ship, escap-
ing, avoids a trap, and calls for succour, which
promptly arrives.
The affair of the Indicm is another affair of
successful tactics. She also was approaching
the entrance to the Channel, early in the morn-
ing of June 12th, 1917. There was a radiant
sky, with a southerly wind, and all on deck were
keeping a strict look-out.
The master descried among the sparkling,
luminous run of sea, a patch or stain. The
helm was put over and the emergency signal
rung down to the engine-room. As the ship
went about the master saw the trail of a tor-
pedo lengthening from the piece of discoloured
water. It was travelling directly towards the
position occupied by the ship before the helm
was put over, and passed astern of her.
The gunners, looking out aft, presently sight-
ed the submarine emerging some three miles
away, and opened fire upon her. The enemy
fired in return, then, dropping swiftly astern,
was speedily lost to view.
The master sent a wireless message, and held
on. After about an hour, a vessel of the United
States Navy hove into view, went by at full
speed and presently disappeared.
The master of the Indian heard the distant
sound of firing.
LVI
Mixing It
When the master of the Pakna, on the after-
noon of June 18th, 1917, sighted the track of a
torpedo, the ship was off the north coast of
Ireland. He put the helm over and stopped the
port engine. The torpedo, which, approaching
the starboard beam, must have been fired
from an invisible submarine from starboard,
passed close under the stern of the ship. At the
same moment, while the ship was swinging to
her helm, the master saw a periscope away to
port and coming towards the vessel, indicating a
second submarine. She fired a torpedo, which
also passed under the stern of the Palma. Here,
then, was a double attack.
The next moment, the periscope of the sub-
marine coming towards the port side passed
under the stern so close to the rudder that the
gunners stationed aft told the master they could
have hung their caps on it. In the meantime,
the submarine which had fired a torpedo from
the starboard side fired a second torpedo as she
steered for the ship, and then met the port side
submarine under the P alma's stern. The mas-
304
MIXING IT 805
ter thinks that they must have collided with
each other.
While the two submarines were entangled
under the stern of the Palma, the three tor-
pedoes they had discharged were plunging
about in her wake.
So close under the stern were the submarines
that the gunners stationed aft in the Palma
could not at first depress the gun low enough to
get the sights on them; then, as the ship went
forward and the submarines dropped astern,
the gunners opened fire on them. For the first
few rounds they sighted on the hull of one sub-
marine, which then disappeared. After the
sixth round nothing was visible. Nor was the
Palma again troubled.
Here was a double attack smartly defeated,
with what seems to have been loss to the enemy.
The manoeuvre by means of which the two sub-
marines, by simultaneously attacking, one on
either side of the ship, proposed to ensure her
destruction, was frustrated by the master's
prompt use of helm and engine.
Lvn
Short and Sweet
On June 20th, 1917, the Valeria was in the
ganger zone off the west coast of Ireland. It
was three o'clock in the morning. In the col-
ourless light of the dawn heralding sunrise, the
^sea was heaving in a long slow swell. The mas-
ter and the second officer were on watch. There
came a shock that vibrated throughout the ship ;
the second officer, leaning over the starboard
rail of the bridge, shouted to the master, who
ran across the bridge from the port side. Both
officers looked down upon a troubled patch of
water, whence, with a hissing sound and a pun-
gent odour, there streamed the burnt gas from
the exhausts of a submarine.
As the ship, steaming at eleven knots, drew
clear of the rising submarine, the gunners sta-
tioned aft rang through to the bridge, signalling
that they had sighted the enemy. The sub-
marine lay athwart the course of the Valeria,
about 100 yards away. Her periscope was
broken off and she was consequently blind.
The chief gunner swiftly depressed his gun
and fired. There was a loud explosion, flinging
306
SHORT AND SWEET SOT
up a fountain of water mingled with thick
vapour, and the gunners signalled a hit to the
master. He ordered them to continue firing.
The second shot was a miss, the third struck the
base of the conning tower. Then the submarine
settled down and sank.
On the surface, large bubbles continually
formed and broke ; and the men of the Valeria,
as the ship receded from the place, still marked
the bubbles rising and vanishing; until, as the
Valeria went on her way at full speed, there was
nothing save the long slow swell of the sea, shin-
ing in the level rays of the summer dawn.
LVIII
The Escape op the ' ' Nitronian ' '
When the master of the Nitronian sighted
the submarine, he altered course, putting the
enemy astern, ordered utmost speed, sent a
wireless message and gave the gunners the
alert. Between the time when the submarine
was descried and the moment she fired was an
interval of two minutes. In that interval, the
whole ship was prepared, all firemen off duty
went into the stokehold, and two quartermas-
ters took the wheel.
It was about half -past eleven on the morning
of June 20th, and the ship was approaching the
west coast of Ireland. She carried a very valu-
able cargo. It was clear grey weather with a
north-easterly breeze and a run of sea.
The first shot fired by the submarine fell
short of the Nitronian, whose gunners instantly
replied. But the enemy kept out of range of the
gun of the Nitronian, manoeuvring to get be-
tween the ship and the shore and so to cut her
off from help.
Firing on both sides continued for twenty
minutes, when a shell pierced the deck of the
Nitronicm, setting fire to some bales of cotton
sweepings, stowed in No. 1 hold.
The master saw smoke coming from the hold,
but as all the men on deck were passing ammu-
308
THE ESCAPE OF THE "NITRONIAN" 309
nition to the gunners, there was none to spare
to extinguish the fire, so the master let it alone
and hoped for the best. He did not know at the
moment that the shell had also smashed a steam
pipe, so that in any case the pumps could not be
put on until the pipe was repaired.
The ship was now heading westward; shells
were falling close about her, and her gun could
not reach the enemy. Thereupon the master
used his smoke-boxes.
A black vapour rolled upon the water; and
behind that dusky shield, the master of the
Nitronian fled with his eight thousand tons of
precious cargo, fifty-five lives of men, and his
great ship in which a fire smouldered. There
was scant hope of escape; but there was a
chance.
Under cover of the thick smoke the master
held on for half an hour; and when it thinned
the submarine had drawn nearer, so near that
she was within range.
The gunners of the Nitronian instantly
opened fire again, the sixth shot narrowly miss-
ing the submarine, which promptly went about,
retreated at full speed, dived, and was no more
seen.
Soon afterwards one of his Majesty's ships
escorted the Nitronian into harbour, where the
fire was put out. The Nitronian sailed again
and safely arrived at her port of destination.
Ship and cargo and men had been saved by
the judgment, skilled seamanship and constancy
of the master, supported by the excellent con-
duct of the crew, of whom "the master speaks
in the highest possible terms. ' '
LIX
The Danger Zone
The steamship Cavour, mounting a gun, was
escorting the steamship Clifftower, which was
unarmed, home from a South American port.
On July 8th, 1917, when the two ships were off
the Lizard, the Clifftower keeping station about
a mile astern of the Cavour, the Clifftower sig-
nalled that she was being attacked by a sub-
marine. The master of the Cavour put his helm
over, and, steaming broad off the starboard bow
of his convoy, saw the enemy lying close to her
starboard quarter.
Putting the Cavour about, the master ordered
the gunners to open fire. The first shot burst
over the bows of the submarine, the second close
to her, and then she submerged.
In the meantime, wireless messages had been
sent from both vessels. The smoke of a de-
stroyer was already in sight; and within ten
minutes, she came tearing along at full speed,
eased down, and circled about the place where
the submarine had been, while the Cavour and
the Clifftower made haste to depart.
A few minutes later a speck appeared in the
310
THE DANGER ZONE 311
sky, low down, grew momently larger, and pres-
ently an airship glided over the destroyer and
hovered there.
That was the last the two escaping ships saw
of the affair; the long black destroyer, the
smoke, the vigilant silver fish floating poised,
watching, in the empyrean . . . And the mas-
ter of the Cavour observes that "there would
appear to be a possibility of the submarine hav-
ing been destroyed.' '
LX
Receiving Visitors
Here is the description of a late type of Ger-
man submarine, contributed by a British master
who profited by a singular opportunity of sur-
veying the vessel at disagreeably close quarters.
She was about 150 feet in length, having one
gun mounted aft, and two torpedo-tubes fitted
in the bows outside the main structure. She
carried a wire over all, which appeared to have
wireless aerials rigged to it. She had a semi-
circular steel dodger for a conning tower. No
periscopes were visible. Lashed down on the
after deck were a boat and a raft. She was
painted light grey above the water and choco-
late colour below, and carried no mark, nor
number nor flag. She was very easy to handle
and of high speed.
The master, when he took note of the pirate
vessel, was sitting alongside her in his boat, con-
versing with the commanding officer of the sub-
marine, who had just torpedoed the master's
ship. She had been badly damaged, but had
righted herself. The German officer, with seven
men, embarked in the master's boat and ordered
the crew to pull them over to the ship.
313
RECEIVING VISITORS 313
While the German sailors were about dis-
mounting the ship's gun, the German officer
invited the master to accompany him into the
chart room, where the German took possession
of the charts, and thence into the master's cabin.
Now the master, by reason of the effect upon
him of the tremendous shock of the explosion
and of some very distressing consequences
thereof, had forgotten to destroy his confiden-
tial papers before leaving the ship. These were
contained in a bag, and the bag was on the seat
of the master's chair.
Upon entering his cabin, the master, with
great presence of mind, sat down on his papers
(like the miser who used to warm his dinner by
sitting upon it). There he was glued, while the
German officer plied him with leading questions
concerning the position of mine fields, and ap-
propriated the ship's chronometers and other
articles which took his fancy. In the meantime,
the master became aware that the German sail-
ors were also pillaging the ship.
It is remarkable that the German officer did
not ask for the confidential papers, usually the
first demand of German submarine officers.
When the German, in the course of his research-
es, turned his back, the master smuggled the bag
of papers under his overcoat, and strolled
towards the door. But the German was along-
side him in a moment.
"I come mit you, my friend," said the Ger-
man ; whereupon the master loitered back to his
chair and sat down again, as though in an ex-
tremity of fatigue. The German continued
314 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
amiably to fill his pockets, and again the master,
as though in absence of mind, edged towards the
door, and again the German was elbow to elbow
with him.
Then the master tried again, and then again,
and the same thing happened. By that time,
the German officer, finding nothing more he
wanted, suggested they should go on deck. The
master, as a last resource, dropped his overcoat,
in which the bag was concealed, over the chair,
and so left it.
The German sailors, having placed bombs for-
ward in the ship, and loaded the master's boat
with stores and gear, embarked in her, followed
by the German officer and the master. As they
drew clear of the ship, the bombs exploded, but
the vessel remained afloat. When the master's
boat had been sent adrift by the submarine offi-
cer, the master saw the submarine, after firing
into the ship, go alongside her. The submarine
remained under the ship 's quarter for about two
hours, but at the distance his boat lay from the
ship the master could not see whether or not the
Germans went aboard again.
So they may have obtained the papers, or
they may not. Life may be stranger than fic-
tion, but it is not nearly so satisfactory; for
what teller of tales but would have depicted the
German as completely outwitted by the British
seaman? Truth is an austere mistress. And
yet she is kind, too ; for she will have us to know
that the British seaman is getting the upper
hand of the outlaw of the sea, and permits us to
be very sure that he will keep it.
LXI
The Master op the " Nelson' '
Sometimes a name is like a flag, a symbol to
hearten and to clench defiance. The smack was
called the Nelson. She was a fishing vessel,
fitted with an auxiliary motor, and mounting a
gun. Her master wrote R.N.R. after his name.
Upon an August afternoon, he shot the trawl
and put the Nelson on the port tack. Then he
went below to pack fish, leaving a hand on deck
who was busy cleaning fish for to-morrow's
breakfast.
Presently the master, returning to the deck,
sighted a distant craft, stared at it intently, sent
for his glasses, and stared at it again. Then he
sang out :
' ' Clear for action! Submarine !"
A shell struck up a fountain about a hundred
yards away on the port bow. The man who was
cleaning fish ran to the ammunition room, the
engineer went to his motor, and the rest of the
men let go the warp, putting a dan on the end of
it in order to be able to pick up the trawl after-
wards. The master took the helm.
The distant submarine continued to fire. The
Nelson was outranged, but the master, watch-
315
316 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
ing the shells striking near about the smack,
gave the order to return the fire.
"No use waiting any longer," said the mas-
ter. ' ' Let them have it. ' '
The gunner did his best, but his shots fell
hopelessly short. The fourth round fired by the
submarine went through the bows of the smack
below the waterline. The master put the smack
about to get the submarine astern.
At the seventh round fired by the submarine,
the shell struck the master, tearing a piece out
of his side, pierced the deck and passed out of
the smack through her side. As the master fell,
his son took the wheel. The smack was sinking
under their feet.
The gunner tried to give first aid to the mas-
ter, but he was beyond mortal help.
"It's all right, boy. Do your best with the
gun," said the master; and he called to the
second hand to send a message. The second
hand wrote at the dying man's dictation, and
this was what he wrote: —
"Nelson being attacked by submarine. Skip-
per killed. Send assistance at once. ' '
The paper was attached to the pigeon, and
the bird carried the news of a man's death, sent
by the man himself.
The smack was settling down ; there were left
but five rounds of ammunition ; and the second
hand went to the skipper lying there on the deck
and heard him say :
"Abandon ship. Throw the books over-
board. ' ' He meant his confidential papers, and
it was done.
THE MASTER OF THE "NELSON" 317
He was asked then if they should lift him into
the boat, but his answer was :
"Tom, I'm done. Throw me overboard."
But he was so dreadfully wounded that they
dared not try to move him; and they left him
where he lay on the deck, which was level with
the water, embarked in the boat, and lay off,
waiting for the end. The dusk was gathering,
and there was a great stillness, for the subma-
rine had gone away.
About a quarter of an hour afterwards, the
Nelson, her colours flying, went down with her
master.
The rest of the crew pulled towards England
all that night. Towards morning, the wind
freshened and blew them out of their course.
They hoisted a pair of trousers and a piece of
oilskin on two oars as a signal of distress, and
rowed all that day in heavy weather, and all
that night until the dawn. By that time the
wind and sea had gone down ; and they sighted
a buoy and made fast to it, and lay there until
the afternoon, when they were rescued.
The name of the master of the Nelson
was Thomas Crisp, R.N.R., and his Majesty the
King was graciously pleased to approve of the
(posthumous) award to Skipper Thomas Crisp
of the Victoria Cross.
Envoy
In making this book, it has been the author 's
purpose to delineate in simple outline the deeds
and hardihood of the officers and men of the
Merchant Service. Out of hundreds of ex-
amples, those instances have been selected which
are typical of many others chronicled in the
records.
The British seaman, and not only the British
seaman but the seamen of other nationalities
who serve in the British Merchant Service, are
to-day what they have always been : unconquer-
able, tenacious, silent, infinitely patient. Long
before the war, the present writer, pondering
upon the men of the sea, dreamed of a time
when they should enter upon their part of that
heritage of wealth which for centuries they have
toiled and endured, sweated and frozen, to get
for others ; when they should earn share as well
as wage, and be sure of steady and highly-paid
employment in well-found ships, and a snug
pension when their seafaring days are done.
The sea service should be, but is not, a chief
pride of England. Upon the sea service she
should delight to lavish care and bounty. Now
that her hoards of money have been taken away
318
ENVOY 319
from her, perhaps England may discern with a
purged vision the things that belong to her
honour.
The merchant seaman in the war has proved
his title to praise and to his part in wealth. But
he did that long ago. Now he has proved it
again. But, unless the present writer is mis-
taken, the merchant seaman has now learned
what is his due, and when the time comes he will
refuse to be put off, and will claim it. But there
should be no need to make the demand. . . .
For now is the time to establish the Imperial
Transport Service, in which the State and the
shipowner make common cause.
There is a road runs broad from the docks
into the heart of the East End, and that is the
road the seaman walks when he lands in Port of
London. The deck-hands and the firemen tramp
along the foul pavement, feeling the whole earth
solid under their boot-soles because it does not
lift to the sea, with their pockets full of money,
and their hearts burning with the lust of life
known to the wandering exile. So they come to
a place where two roads meet ; a place of squalid
shops and foreign smells and filthy public-
houses, infamous kens and the trulls of the
causeway. The money is out in a week, some-
times in a night, and the man is lucky if his head
be not broken, and then he signs on once more.
And that is what Port of London does for the
merchant seaman.
But happily that is not all. For, at that place
where the two roads meet, the British and For-
320 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR
eign Sailors ' Society has built a home for the
men. It is an example and a beginning. If Lon-
don did what London onght to do, her gover-
nors would abolish some square miles of fester-
ing, wicked private property and build a new
Sailor Town. Why not? And why not do the
same in every port?
In conclusion, the present writer desires to
express his gratitude to those naval officers at
the Admiralty who, in the midst of their own
unremitting labours, have so courteously and
kindly helped him in his task.
L. C. C.
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